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OSCAR  WILDE  AT  THE  TIME  OF  THk  TRIALS 
By  Count  Hcmi  de  Toulou&e-LauUec 
(from  the  portrait  in  die  coilecutm  of  Mr  Comae)  Le’itci  in 
Lot  Angeles,  Califomio>  USA) 


THE  TRIALS  OF 


OSCAR  WILDE 

Pi^gina  (Wilde)  r.  Queensberrj  Regina  r.  W'ilde  and  Ta/Ior 


EDITED,  WITH  AM  INTRODUCTON 
BY 

H.  MONTGOMERY  HYDE 

Banistar-at^Lair  the  Tm^U 


WITH  A KORKWOUn  RY 

The  Rt.  Hon.  Sir  Travers  Humphreys,  P.C, 


LONDON  EDINBURGH  GLASGOW 

WILLIAM  HODGE  AND  COMPANY,  LIMITED 


Firtt  JuB«%  ItHii 

PipHnitd,  i9W 

„ i/flAttarVi 


JfAQC  X9V  PRINIKS  in  ORIiT 

n 

fflIXUX  HObCK  m COHPaKY  LlHKtn 
Unmo:f,  QJ.A8QOW,  A}is  BDJMWMfi 


To  the  Memory 

of 

Sir  Edward  Clarice 


“Remember  to  what  a point  your  Puritanism  in  England  has 
brought  you.  In  old  days  nobody  pretended  to  be  a bit  better  than 
his  neighbours.  Nowadays,  with  our  modern  mania  for  morality, 
every  one  has  to  pose  as  a paragon  of  purity,  incorruptibility,  and 
all  the  other  seven  deadly  virtues— and  what  is  the  result?  You 
all  go  over  like  ninepins— one  after  the  other.  Not  a year  passes 
in  England  without  somebody  disappearing.  Scandals  used  to  lend 
charm,  or  at  least  interest,  to  a man— now  they  crush  him.  And 
yours  is  a very  nasty  scandal.  You  couldn’t  survive  it.” 


An  Ideal  Husband,  Act  I. 


PREFACE 


My  grateful  acknowledgments  arc  due  to  the  following  for  the 
help  they  have  generously  given  me  in  the  preparation  of  this 
book,  including  the  right  to  reproduce  copyright  material ; Sir 
Travers  Humphreys,  Sir  Seymour  Hicks,  Sir  Albion  Richaidson, 
Sir  Max  Beerbohm,  Mr.  Cecil  Palmer,  Mr.  J.  A.  White  (managing 
director  of  Methuen  & Co.),  Mr.  Edward  Clarke,  Mr.  Arthur 
Ransome,  Mrs.  R.  H.  Sherard,  Sir  Wilfrid  Nops,  Mr.  William 
Freeman,  Mr.  Hesketh  Pearson,  Mr.  Hugh  ^ngsmill,  Mr.  J. 
Lewis  May,  Captain  L.  H.  Green,  Mrs.  Guy  Wyndham,  Mr. 
Martin  Seeker,  Mr.  P.  H.  Muir,  Mr.  Frederick  Peters,  Mr.  Hugh 
Quennell,  Mr.  Conrad  H.  Lester,  Mr.  E.  W.  Colman  (literary 
executor  of  the  late  Lord  Alfred  Douglas),  The  National  Magazine 
Co.,  Ltd.,  Messrs.  Holmes,  Son  St  Pott,  Elliot  & Fry,  Ltd., 
Constable  Sc  Co.,  Ltd.,  and  the  Librarian  of  the  William  Andrews 
Clark  Library  in  Los  Angeles,  California.  It  may  be  noted  that 
the  first  four  individuals  mentioned  above  were  present  in  Court 
during  the  trials  which  are  the  subject  of  this  work,  and  that  Sir 
Travers  Humphreys,  who  has  contrRiiited  a Foreword  to  the  Ixiok, 
was  one  of  Wilde’s  counsel  throughout  the  proceedings. 

I am  especially  indebted  to  Mr.  Cecil  Palmer  for  the  use  he  h.is 
kindly  permitted  me  to  make  of  Oscar  Wilde:  Three  Times  Tried, 
which  he  originally  published  in  1912  in  collaboration  with  the 
late  C.  S.  Millard,  whose  Bibliography  of  Oscar  Wilde,  written 
under  the  pseudonym  “Stuart  Mason,”  I have  likewise  found 
indispensable.  ' 

I also  wish  to  place  on  record  my  sense  of  obligation  to  four 
distinguished  writers  now  dead — ^Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  Sir  Arthur 
Quiller-Couch,  W.  B.  Yeats,  and  Richard  Lc  Gallienne— for  their 
kindness  in  communicating  to  me  in  the  course  of  conversations, 
which  I was  privileged  to  have  with  them,  their  recollections  of 
these  remarkable  trials  and  thrir  background. 

I should  add  that  I have  endeavoured  as  far  as  possible  to 
present  the  evidence  in  the  words  in  which  it  was  given  from  the 
witness-box  in  the  various  trials.  However,  for  reasons  which 
should  appear  sufficiently  obvious  to  the  reader,  I have  occasionally 
considered  it  desirable  to  paraphrase  witnesses’  statements.  The 
comparatively  few  instances  where  this  has  been  done  are  clearly 
indicated  between  square  brackets  in  the  text. 

4 Bkick  Court, 

Temple,  E.C.4,  H.  MONTGOMERY  HYDE. 

March,  1948. 


CONTENTS 

rAoi 

Foreword,  by  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  Travers  Humphreys,  P.C.,  - i 

iNtRODDCTtON, 9 

Leadino  Dates  Reutinc  to  the  Wiide  Triais,  - - - io« 

FIRST  TRIAL 

First  Trial, 105 

First  Day— Wednesday,  jrd  April,  1B95 
Sir  Edward  Clarke's  Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecudon,  - 108 

'Eviienct  for  the  TrosecuHon 

Sidney  Wright,  - - 115  Oscar  Wilde,  - - - n6 

Second  Day— Thursday,  4TH  April,  189^ 

Bmience  for  the  Prosecution  (concluded) 

Oscar  Wilde  (cross-examination  continued),  - ■ ■ - 14a 

Mr,  Edward  Carson’s  Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence,  ■ - 164 

Third  Day— PamAv,  5TH  April,  1895 

Mr,  Edward  Carson’s  Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence  (cott' 
tinued), ijo 

Withdrawal  of  the  Prosecution, 173 

Verdict, 175 

SECOND  TRIAL 

Second  Trial, 177 

First  Day— Friday,  j6th  April,  1895 

Indictment,  Demurrer  and  Pleas, 179 

Mr.  Charles  Gill's  Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution,  - - 189 

Evidence  for  the  Prosecution 

Charles  Parker,  - ' 191  Margery  Bancroft,  ■ - 300 

William  Parker,  - - 198  Sophia  Gray,  - - - 200 

Ellen  Grant,  - - - 199  Frederick  Kearley,  - 201 

Lucy  Rumsby,  - - - 200  Alfred  Wood,  - - - 101 


CONTENTS 

PAOt 

Sbcond  Day— Satusdat,  17TH  Aprci,  1895 
Enidence  for  tki  Prosecution  (fontinued) 

Alfred  Wood  (cross'  Edward  Shelley,  - - 31a 

eiamination  continued),  303  Frederick  Atkins  (recalled)  216 

Thomas  Price,  - - - 205  EUdn  Mathews,  - - 318 

Frederick  Atkins,  - - 206  Aloys  Louis  Vogel,  - 318 

Mary  Applegate,  - - 210  George  Frederick  Claridge,  218 

Sidney  Arthur  Mavor,  - air  Charles  Robinson,  - - 319 

Third  Day— Moiiday,  29TH  Apru,  1895 
Evidence  for  the  Proseatnon  (concluded) 

Antonio  Migge,  - - 219  William  Harris,  - - 320 

Jane  Cotter,  - - - 320  Charles  Richards,  - - 321 

Annie  Perkins,  - ■ 220  Thomas  Btockwell,  • 321 

Fourth  Day— Tdisday,  30TH  April,  1895 

Withdrawal  of  Conspiracy  Charges, 22(> 

Sir  Edward  Clarke’s  Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence,  - - 328 

Evidence  for  the  Defence 

Oscar  Wilde,  • - - *33  Alfred  Taylor,  • . 342 

Sit  Edward  Clarke’s  Closing  Speech  for  the  Defendant  Wilde,  - 244 

Mr.  f,  P.  Grain's  Closing  Speech  for  the  Defendant  Taylor,  - 350 

Mr.  Charles  Gill’s  Closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution,  - - 251 

Fipth  Day— Wbdnbsday,  ist  May,  1895 

Mr.  Justice  Charles’s  Charge  to  the  Juty, 253 

Verdict, - 266 

Application  for  Bail, jgg 


CONIENTS 


MCI 


Evidenee  for  the  Prosecution 

Charles  Parker,  - - 275  Jaoe  Cotter,  - - - 279 

William  Parker,  - - 278  Emile  Becker,  - - - 279 

Alfred  Wood,  - - - 278  Sophia  Gray,  - - - 279 

Ellen  Grant,  - - - 278 

Mr.  }.  P.  Grain’s  Opening  Speech  tor  the  Defence,  - - 279 


Second  Day— Tuesday,  aisr  May,  1895 
Evidence  for  the  Defence 

Alfred  Taylor, 

Mr.  J.  P.  Grain’s  Closing  Speech  for  the  Defence,  - 
The  Solidtor-General’s  Closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution, 

Mr.  Justice  Wills’s  Charge  to  the  Jury,  .... 

Verdict, 

Third  Day  Wrdnuiiay,  22nd  May,  1895 
The  Case  Apinst  Wilde 
The  Solicitor-Genfral's  Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution,  - 294 

Eridence  for  the  Prosecution 

Edward  Shelley,  - - 296  Alfred  Wood,  - - - joo 

Elkin  Mathews,  - - 299  Charles  Parker,  ■ • 301 

Aloys  Louis  Vogel,  - - 299 


Fourth  Day— Thursday,  23RD  May,  1895 
Evidence  for  the  Prosecution  (concluded} 


William  Parker, 

302 

Margery  Bancroft,  - 

■ 2fiA 

Charles  Robinson,  - 

3<» 

Lucy  Rumsby, 

- 304 

Jane  Cotter, 

303 

Frederick  Kcarley,  - 

- 304 

Alice  Saunders, 

303 

Thomas  Price, 

- 304 

Antonio  Migge, 

303 

Charles  Richards, 

- 304 

Emile  Becker,  - 

304 

Thomas  BrockwcU,  - 

■ 304 

Withdrawal  of  one  Count, 

- - 



- 305 

280 

- 288 

- 289 

290 

291 


CONTENTS 


P4CI 


PiBTH  Day— Fmdav,  24111  May,  1895 
Sir  Edward  CUrkc’a  Opening  Speech  for  die  Defeinr,  - - v'8 

Eeidenct  for  lie  Defence 

Ojcm  Wilde, in 

Sir  Edward  Clarke’s  Closing  Specdi  for  ihe  Defence,  - - ^22 
The  Solicitor-General’s  Qosing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution,  - 323 

SiJtTH  Day— Satuaday,  ajlH  May,  1895 
The  Solidtor-General’s  Closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution  (con- 
tinued),   324 

Mr,  Justice  Wills’s  Charge  to  the  Jury, 329 

Verdict, 33^ 

Sentence,  . , - 338 


APPENDICKS 

A.  Plea  of  Jusdficadon  Filed  by  the  Defendant  in  lUgim 

{Wilde)  V.  Queensberry, <41 

B.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  Sir  Edward  Clarke,  • - - 34O 

C.  Bankruptcy  Proceedings, 342 

D.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  the  Aftermath  of  the  Wilde  Trials,  347 

E.  The  Problem  of  Wilde’s  Inverdon,  - - - - 367 

F.  The  Prevalence  of  Male  Homosexuality  in  England,  - - 375 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Oscar  Wilde  at  the  time  of  the  Trials,  by  Count  Henri 
de  Toulouse-Lautrec,  from  the  prtrait  in  the  collec- 
tion of  Mr.  Conrad  Lester  in  Los  Angeles,  California, 


U.S.A., Frontispiece 

The  Eighdi  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  by  “Spy,"  - - Pacing  page  31 


Letter  written  on  aSth  February,  1895,  from  Oscar  Wilde 
to  Robert  Ross  indicating  his  intention  to'  prosecute 
the  Marquess  of  Queensberry  for  Criminal  Libel, 
from  the  original  in  the  William  Andrews  Clark 

Memorial  Library,  Univenity  of  California,  Los 

Angeles 

ft 

33 

Oscar  Wilde,  from  a contemporary  photograph. 

» 

80 

Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  from  a coniemprary  photograph, 

» 

81 

Sir  Edward  Clarke,  Q.C.,  M.P.,  by  “Spy,"  • 

» 

128 

Edward  Carson,  Q.C.,  M.P.,  by  “lib,” 

120 

Mr,  Justice  Henn  Collins,  by  “Quiz,” 

iy6 

Willie  Mathews,  by  “Spy,” 

» 

177 

Horace  Avory,  by  “Spy,” 

a 

224 

Travers  Humphreys,  from  a contemporary  photograph. 

ft 

225 

Mr,  Justice  Charles,  by  "Spy," 

» 

256 

Charles  Gill,  by  “Spy,” 

ft 

257 

Sir  Frank  Lockwood,  Q.C.,  M.P.,  by  “Spy,”  - 

ft 

304 

Mr.  Justice  Wills,  by  "Spy,” 

» 

305 

Letter  from  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  to  Sir  Edward  Clarke, 

26th  May,  1895, 

it 

352 

FOREWORD 


By  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  Twvers  Hiimimireys,  P.C. 

I HAVE  been  asked  to  contribute  a Foreword  to  this  volume  of  the 
excellent  series  of  “Notable  British  Trials,"  published  by  Messrs. 
Hodge  & Co.,  Ltd.  The  reason  apparently  for  my  being  selected 
is  that  I had  a complimentary  brief  in  the  case,  as  junior  to  Sir 
Edward  Clarke,  Q.C.  and  C.  W.  Mathews,  delivered  by  my  father, 
who  was  acting  as  solicitor  to  Oscar  Wilde.  Everyone  else  connected 
with  the  trials,  which  took  place  fifty-three  years  ago,  appears  to 
be  dead. 

I have  accepted  tlie  invitation,  although  I doubt  whether  I c.nn 
add  any  new  fact  or  otherwise  improve  upon  the  story  of  the  three 
trials  so  admirably  told  by  my  friend  Mr.  Montgomery  Hyde.  That 
gentleman  relies  for  his  facts  upon  a transcript  of  .shorthand  notes, 
and  for  his  comments  upon  letters  and  other  writings  extending  over 
many  years.  If  I do  not  always  sec  eye  to  eye  with  him  in  regartl 
to  those  comments,  we  differ  only  in  matters  of  opinion  and  we 
shall  agree  that  de  opmonibm,  just  as  de  gmtlhus,  non  tst 
disputandum. 

' What  perhaps  I can  do  is  to  supply  something  for  the  back- 
ground of  the  picture  which  Mr.  Montgomery  Hyde  has  painted, 
and  at  least  I hope  to  dispel  once  and  for  all  some  of  the  ridiculous 
suggestions  put  forward  from  time  to  time  to  account  for  the  course 
pursued  by  Oscar  Wilde’s  legal  advisers. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  the  man  in  the  street,  the  first  of 
these  trials  undoubtedly  exhibited  all  the  features  of  a cause  cilibre. 
It  is  not  every  day  that  a Marquess  can  be  seen  in  the  dock  at  the 
Old  Bailey  charged  with  libel,  and  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry 
was  a well-known  figure  in  sporting  circles.  The  prosecutor,  Mr. 
Oscar  Wilde,  moreover,  was  a man  whose  name  at  least  was  well 
known  as  the  author  of  successful  plays,  one  of  which  was  running 
at  the  Haymarket  Theatre  and  another  at  the  St.  James’s.  It  was 
understood  that  the  libel  involved  an  attack  upon  the  decency  and 
fitness  for  publication  of  some  of  the  books  or  writings  of  Oscar 

A I 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Wilde.  Small  wonder  then  that  all  chtbscs  of  .society  clamoured  for 
admission  to  the  Court,  which  aflorded  much  greater  accommoda- 
tion for  the  public  both  on  and  off  the  bench  than  Ls  to  be  found  in 
the  present  Court,  completed  and  opened  in  1907. 

Those  who  obtained  admission  certainly  had  their  fill  of  sensa- 
tion and  had  the  opportunity  of  listening  to  as  brilliant  and  damag- 
ing cross-examination  by  Edward  Carson  as  was  ever  administered 
to  a prosecutor  in  a criminal  case.  The  witness  was  in  every  respect 
the  equal  in  ability  of  the  counsel;  and,  so  long  as  the  cros^examina- 
tion  was  confined  to  the  subject  of  his  writings,  many  thought  that 
Wilde  had  scored  as  many  points  as  Carson.  But  then  came  a 
change.  Leaving  literature,  Carson  came  to  the  private  life  and 
habits  of  the  witness;  and  the  admissions,  which  Wilde  was  forced 
to  make  as  to  his  association  with  boys  and  young  men  of  a class 
far  beneath  him,  left  no  doubt,  I think,  in  the  minds  of  those 
present  that  he  was  a homosexual.  As  name  after  name  was  put 
to  him,  the  names  of  blackmailcm,  of  boys  of  the  humblest  class, 
and  as  the  story  was  unfolded  of  such  youths  being  inviircl  to 
champagne  dinners  or  suppers  in  Wilde’s  own  rooms  or  in  a private 
room  at  expensive  restaurants,  the  explanation  that  Wilde’s  interest 
in  such  persons  was  no  more  than  an  expression  of  bis  innocent 
love  for  youth  in  all  its  aspects  began  to  ring  terribly  hollow,  and 
wc  at  least  who  were  representing  him  realized  that  the  case  wa.s 
lost. 

He  had  saved  his  reputation  as  a writer  of  boohs  and  plays,  but 
as  a man  he  had  almost  confessed  to  having  at  least  “posed”  as  the 
libel  alleged.  Carson  had  made  it  clear  that  he  had  statements  from 
the  two  Parkers,  from  Wood,  from  SheUey  and  others,  and  was 
intending  to  call  them  as  witnesses.  Wilde  had  afforded  in  advance 
such  deadly  corroboration  of  the  stories  they  would  tell  that  we 
could  not  hope  that  they  would  be  altogether  disbelieved,  and  Clarke 
was  convinced  that  the  only  course  to  take  in  the  interest  of  Wilde 
was  to  bring  the  case  to  an  end  before  any  evidence  could  be  given 
in  support  of  the  plea  of  justification. 

Wilde  was  given  every  opportunity  to  leave  the  country  if  he 
so  desired.  He  elected  to  stay;  or  more  accurately,  he  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  go,  though  he  drew  money  from  his  bank  and 
had  his  bag  half  packed  when  arrested  late  in  the  afternoon.  The 
a 


Foreword. 


authorities  would,  I believe,  hiive  been  quite  willing  that  he  should 
go  abroad;  but,  since  he  did  not  avail  hittiself  of  the  delay  in 
issuing  the  warrant,  his  prosecution  was  inevitable.  Before  making 
some  observations  upon  the  two  trials  that  followed,  let  us  sec  how 
it  was  that  the  unfortunate  proceedings  against  Lord  Queensberry 
came  to  be  taken. 

The  eighth  Marquess  of  Queensberry  no  doubt  deserved  all  the 
unpleasant  things  which  were  said  about  him;  but  the  very  fact 
that  he  was  a coarse-minded  and  violent-tempered  individual,  filled 
with  envy,  hatred,  malice  and  all  uncharitableness  towards  the 
members  of  his  family,  made  it  all  the  more  certain  that  he  would 
not  desist  from  his  persecution  of  Wilde  unless  compelled  to  do 
so,  or  unless  the  cause  of  his  enmity  was  removed  by  the  parting 
of  his  son,  Alfred  Douglas,  and  the  “poseur,"  as  he  regarded  Oscar 
Wilde.  When,  therefore,  WUde  instnicted  his  solicitor  to  apply  for 
criminal  process  against  Lord  Queensberry,  that  veiy  experienced 
criminal  lawyer  had  three  possible  courses  open  to  him.  He  could 
advise  Wilde  to  ignore  tills  particular  insult,  which  would  mean 
waiting  for  the  next  attack  which  would  surely  follow;  he  could 
refuse  to  accept  Wilde’s  instructions,  and  invite  him  to  consult  snnw 
other  solicitor;  or  he  could  take  the  step  which  he,  in  fact,  did.  It 
may  be  taken  for  granted  that  he  had  not  the  faintest  idea  that 
Wilde  Lad  laid  himself  open  to  charges  such  as  those  upon 
which  he  was  ultimately  convicted. 

It  is  always  easy  to  be  wise  after  the  event,  but  at  the  lime,  and 
with  the  knowledge  of  the  parties  which  he  then  possessed,  I venture 
to  think  that  the  action  of  the  solicitor  was  the  natural  and  proper 
one.  That  at  least  was  the  view  of  Mr.  Justice  Wills,  who  presided 
over  the  last  trial,  and  who  in  the  course  of  his  summing  up 
observed  that  "the  action  of  Lord  Queensberry  was  one  which  no 
gentleman  would  have  taken  and  left  Wilde  no  alternative  but  to 
prosecute  or  to  be  branded  publicly  as  a man  who  could  not  deny  a 
foul  charge." 

In  giving  to  his  solicitor,  as  he  afterwards  admitted,  his  solemn 
assurance  of  his  innocence,  Wilde  lied,  as  did  Lord  Alfred  Douglas, 
who  accompanied  him.  None  of  Wilde’s  friends  came  forward  to 
give  to  the  solicitor  even  a hint  of  the  life  Wilde  had  been  leading, 
though  they  were  ready  enough  at  a later  stage  to  offer  information 
3 


Oscar  Wilde. 


upon  it.  Three  of  them  enme  to  my  chiimbers  just  after  Wilde  had 
been  committed  for  trial  with  the  suggestion  that  the  defence  should 
be  that  “dear  Oscar  could  not  help  himself,  he  had  always  had  these 
tendencies."  The  truth  is  that  the  two  persons  responsible  for  the 
dibAcle  were  Oscar  Wilde  himsdf  and  his  friend  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas. 

Alfred  Douglas  was  very  annoyed  that  he  was  not  allowed  to 
give  evidence  against  his  father.  Suggestions  were  made  then  and 
since  that  his  evidence  would  have  helped  Wilde  by  “showing  up” 
Lord  Queensberry.  Such  criticisms  merely  serve  to  expose  the 
ignorance  of  the  critics.  There  was  no  admissible  evidence  wluch 
Douglas  could  have  given,  since  the  issue  was  not  concerned  with 
the  treatment  of  his  family  by  the  Marquess,  but  simply — was  it 
true  that  Wilde  had  posed  as  alleged? 

As  to  the  reason  why  Clarke  decided  to  end  the  trial  before 
the  defence  had  called  their  witnesses,  I have  already  explained 
that  in  his  opinion  there  was  just  a chance  that  the  TrCiasury 
Solicitor,  who  then  acted  as  the  Director  of  Public  Prosecutions, 
might  be  satisfied  to  leave  things  as  they  were.  So  matters  might 
indeed  have  turned  out  if  Lord  Queensberry  had  been  less  vindictive 
than  he  in  fact  was,  or  if  Wilde  had  decided  to  leave  the  country 
for  a time.  As  it  was,  the  Treasury  Solicitor’s  hand  was  forced  tint' 
he  had  no  choice  but  to  prosecute. 

Wilde  showed  considerable  courage  in  remaining  to  face  his 
accusers,  both  then  and  later  when,  after  the  disagreement  of  the 
jury  at  the  first  trial,  he  was  tidmitted  to  bail.  The  ,^5000  bail 
was  in  fact  put  up  in  cash  and  Wilde  was  told,  so  I was  afterwards 
informed,  that  his  sureties  would  not  suffer  if  he  absconded;  but 
he  elected  to  remain.  What  he  thought  then  of  his  chances  we 
cannot  tell.  He  had  a pathetic  belief  in  his  own  power  to  influence 
others;  he  may  have  considered,  not  altogether  without  justification, 
that  a disagreement  is  half-way  to  an  acquittal,  though  that  astute 
advocate  Montague  Williams  used  to  say,  “the  second  barrel  is 
nearly  always  fatal.”  However  that  may  be,  he  took  his  chance— 
and  failed. 

On  the  whole,  Wilde  had  little  to  complain  of  in  the  conduct 
of  either  of  his  trials.  Both  Charles,  J,  and  Wills,  J.  were  scrupu- 
lously fair  to  him,  and  he  obtained  from  both  of  those  learned 

4 


Foreword. 


judges  rulings  on  the  question  ot  the  corrobortition  of  accomplices 
much  more  favourable  than  would  be  given  in  similar  circumstances 
to-day.  Indeed,  Wills,  J.,  in  refusing  to  leave  the  case  of  the  youth 
Shelley  to  the  jury,  was  not  expressing  the  law  as  it  existed  then 
or  now;  but,  in  the  absence  of  any  Court  of  Criminal  Appeal,  the 
learned  judge  was  making  sure  that  no  injustice  should  be  suffered 
by  the  aecused  in  a case  where  he  himself  thought  it  would  be 
dangerous  to  convict. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke  considered  that  the  Solicitor-General  in 
the  second  trial  had  pressed  the  case  unduly  against  his  client, 
and  said  so  in  his  speech  to  the  jury,  but  too  much  attention 
need  not  be  paid  to  these  forensic  recriminations.  The  genial  Frank 
Lockwood  was  a hard  hitter  and  a vigorous  advocate,  belonging 
to  the  school  of  those  who  held  that  the  “duty  of  a prosecutor  is 
to  prosecute,”  as  Richard  Muir  once  put  it,  but  it  was  not  in  his 
nature  to  be  intentionally  unfair  to  anyone. 

The  newspapers,  or  some  of  diem,  certainly  behaved  disgrace- 
fully, and  if  there  is  any  truth  in  the  statement  to  be  found  in  the 
book,  Oscar  Wilde:  Three  Times  Tried,  published  in  1912,  that  a 
morning  paper  purported  to  publish  the  voting  of  the  jury  upon 
the  various  charges  upon  which  they  failed  to  agree,  the  editor  of 
that  paper  was  indeed  fortunate  in  not  being  sent  to  prison  Cor  a 
gross  contempt  of  Court. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  refer  to  one  other  matter  which,  how- 
ever, was  not,  so  far  as  I remember,  mentioned  during  either  of 
the  trials.  In  every  sensational  trial  by  jury  one  of  the  factors  to 
be  reckoned  with  is  the  atmosphere  in  which  the  case  is  tried,  by 
which  I mean  the  attitude  of  the  public,  from  which  are  drawn 
the  jurors,  to  the  particular  subject  debated,  and  the  likelihood 
of  prejudice  for  or  against  one  of  the  parties.  Now,  Oscar  Wilde 
was  accused  of  offences  against  secrion  ii  of  the  Criminal  Law 
Amendment  Act,  1885.  Until  that  Act  came  into  force,  on  ist 
January,  1886,  the  criminal  law  was  not  concerned  with  alleged 
indecencies  between  grown-up  men  committed  in  private.  Everyone 
knew  that  such  things  took  place,  but  the  law  only  punished  acts 
against  pubUc  decency  or  conduct  tending  to  the.  corruption  of  youth. 
The  Bill  in  question  entitled  “A  Bill  to  make  further  provision  for 
the  protection  of  women  and  girls,  the  suppression  of  brothels  and 

5 


Oscar  Wilde. 


other  purposes,"  was  introduced  and  passed  in  the  House  of  Lords 
without  any  reference  to  indecency  between  males.  In  the 
Commons,  after  a second  reading  without  comment,  it  was  referred 
to  a committee  of  the  whole  House.  In  committee  Mr.  Labouchere 
moved  to  insert  in  the  Bill  the  clause  which  uitimately  became 
section  II  of  the  Act,  creating  the  new  offence  of  indecency  between 
male  persons  in  public  or  private.  Such  conduct  in  public  was,  and 
always  had  been,  punishable  at  common  law.  There  was  no  dis- 
cussion except  that  one  member  asked  the  Speaker  whether  it  was 
in  order  to  introduce  at  that  stage  a clause  dealing  with  a totally 
different  class  of  offence  to  that  against  which  the  Bill  was  directed. 
The  Speaker  having  ruled  that  anything  could  be  introduced  by 
leave  of  the  House,  the  clause  was  agreed  to  without  further  dis- 
cussion, the  only  amendment  moved  being  one  by  Sir  Henry 
James  with  the  object  of  increasing  the  maximum  punishment 
from  13  to  24  months,  which  was  also  agreed  to  without  discussion. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  House  fully  apprcciuted  that  ilic 
words  "in  public  or  private”  in  the  new  clause  had  completely 
altered  the  law;  but,  as  soon  as  the  Royal  Assent  Itad  been  given 
and  the  Act  was  published,  there  began  a spate  of  correspondence 
in  the  newspapers,  both  legal  and  lay,  and  references  to  the  subject 
on  various  public  platforms,  which  were  duly  reported.  A learned 
Recorder  dubbed  it  “The  Blackmailer's  Charter,"  and  an  eminent 
Q.C.  prophesied  that  juries  would  refuse  to  convict  where  the 
alleged  acts  were  in  private  and  not  visible  to  any  member  of  the 
public.  On  the  other  hand,  those  interested  in  the  welfare  of  girls 
welcomed  the  Act  as  a whole  so  warmly  (and  indeed  it  was  an 
excellent  Act  apart  from  section  ri),  and  it  was  so  clearly  impossible 
to  do  anything  except  to  let  the  law  take  its  course,  that  after  a few 
weeks  the  clamour  died  down  and  the  public  interest  became 
centred  upon  some  more  savoury  topic.  The  criticisms  proved  to 
be  not  without  foundation.  The  reluctance  of  juries  to  convict  in 
such  cases  is  notorious,  while  no  one  having  experience  in  such 
matters  would  deny  that  the  words  “in  private”  have  materially 
assisted  the  blackmailer  in  his  loathsome  trade. 

I have  referred  to  the  history  of  section  ii,  not  for  the  purpose  of 
reviving  the  old  controversy  as  to  whether  the  satisfaction  of  sending 
to  prison  some  of  those  who  offend  against  it  "in  private”  outweighs 
6 


Foreword. 


the  harm  done  in  other  directions,  htii  because  there  was  a belief 
in  some  minds  at  the  time  tliat  its  unpopuhirity  would  assist 
Wilde.  As  it  was  put  by  a legal  friend  of  mine;  “We  shall  see 
which  the  jury  dislike  most — section  ii  or  Oscar  Wilde.”  Some- 
thing caused  a disagreement  among  the  jury  at  the  first  trial;  what 
occasioned  it,  we  do  not  know.  It  is  not  inconceivable  that  some 
one  or  more  of  the  jurors  held  views  upon  the  matters  I have  been 
referring  to.  Certain  it  is  that  no  one  has  had  the  hardihood  to 
propose  the  extension  of  the  law  upon  the  subject  to  women,  though 
Lesbianism  is  not  unknown  in  this  country. 

On  the  other  hand,  Oscar  Wilde  was  no  popular  favourite.  The 
cult  of  “Art  for  Art’s  sake,”  in  the  form  in  which  it  was  rife  at 
the  time  when  WUde  was  an  undergraduate  at  Oxford  and  later 
in  London,  when  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  its  High  Priest,  had 
long  been  out  of  favour  with  the  virile  youth  of  the  day.  Aisdieticism 
had  been  ridiculed  out  of  existence  by  W.  S.  Gilbert  in  Vatlcvcc 
during  the  early  eighties.  Patience  had  a long  and  succcssfttl 
career,  and  though  it  had  been  succeeded  at  the  Savoy  Theatre  by 
Manthe  and  other  operas  long  before  t8o5,  it  was  siill  frcqiienily 
played,  while  its  tunes  and  its  songs  could  be  heard  in  every  draw- 
ing-room. Wilde  in  the  witness-box  showed  himself  to  be  a 
“poseur,”  and  “poseurs”  were  at  a discount  with  those  who  had 
laughed  at  Gilbert’s  invitation  to  cultivate  a “sentimentjl  passion 
of  a vegetable  fashion  ...  an  attachment  A la  Plato  (oi  a btishful 
young  potato  or  a not-too-French  French  bean!” 

It  is,  I think,  doubtful  whether  the  average  juryman  knew  much 
if  anything  of  Oscar  Wilde.  As  a poet  he  had  never  acquired  a 
reputation,  at  least  with  the  general  public;  his  name  was  no  doubt 
familiar  to  playgoers  as  the  author  of  some  brilliant  and  successful 
comedies,  but  after  all  what  does  the  public  know  and  what 
interest  does  the  public  take  in  the  private  lives  of  authors?  I 
think  we  are  bound  to  assume  that  the  jury  convicted  Wilde  as 
another  jury  had  convicted  Taylor— upon  the  evidence  in  the  case. 

Wilde’s  plays  still  live,  and  after  fifty  years  continue  to  draw 
audiences.  Some  of  his  books,  including  The  Picture  of  Dorian 
Gray,  arc  still  being  published.  For  my  own  part  I hope  that 
such  exquisite  fantasies  as  The  Happy  Prince  and  The  Nightingale 
and  the  Rose  will  live  as  long  as  the  similar  stories  for  children  by 

7 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Hans  Christian  Andersen,  It  was,  however,  as  a talker  that  Wiltk 
shone  most  brightly  among  his  contemporaries.  As  a conversa- 
tionalist he  was  supreme.  Occasionally  flippant,  he  was  nevei 
dull,  and  his  wittiest  sayings  were  for  the  most  part  completely 
impromptu.  I shall  always  remember  one  oE  them  dining  a 
conference  we  had  together  shortiy  before  the  first  trial  came  on. 
It  was  on  this  occasion  that  he  learned  that  Lord  Queensberry’s 
solicitor  had  briefed  as  his  leading  counsel  Edward  Carson,  who, 
as  it  happened,  had  once  been  a student  with  Wilde  at  Trinity 
College,  Dublin.  When  I told  him  that  he  would  be  cross-examined 
by  Carson  at  the  trial,  Wilde  immediately  replied : “No  doubt  he 
win  perform  his  task  with  all  the  added  bitterness  of  an  old  friend.” 

Oscar  Wilde’s  talents  raised  him  almost  to  the  level  of  a genius; 
his  mode  of  life  dragged  him  down  to  the  depths  of  a pathological 
case. 

R.I.P. 


8 


INTRODUCTION 


The  three  trials,  in  which  Oscar  Wilde  formed  the  piincipal  fiRure 
at  the  Central  Criminal  Court  in  London  in  1895,  have  every  claim 
to  be  regarded  as  notable.  A well-known  dramatic  author  pro- 
secuted an  eccentric  and  pugnacious  peer  for  criminally  libelling 
him,  the  libel  having  been  uttered  by  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry 
in  an  alleged  attempt  to  save  his  son,  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  from 
the  author’s  evil  communicadons.  This  proceeding  in  turn  led 
to  the  author’s  own  prosecution  and  ultimate  conviction  on  a serious 
charge  under  a recent  criminal  statute. 

The  tripartite  legal  drama,  which  unfolded  itself  at  the  Old 
Bailey  between  3rd  April  and  31st  May,  1895,  engaged  the  cxertion.s 
of  the  be.si  professional  brains  of  the  day--on  ilic  Bench,  Hcnn 
Collins,  Charles  and  Wills,  JI.;  and  at  the  Bar,  Sir  F.dwartl  Clarke, 
Sir  Prank  Lockwood,  and  Messrs,  lidward  Carson,  Charles  Gill, 
Willie  Mafhew.s,  Horace  Avory,  and  Travers'  llumplu'cy.',.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  first  trial  Mr.  Justice  Hcnn  Cf)llins  de.scribe(l 
Carson’s  defence  of  Lord  Queensberry,  in  the  course  of  which  he 
cross-examined  Wilde  with  deadly  effect,  as  the  most  powerful 
speech  and  searching  cross-examination  to  which  he  had  ever 
listened.  In  the  second  trial  the  accused’s  description  of  Platonic 
love  as  existing  between  an  elder  and  a younger  man  produced  an 
extraordinary  outburst  of  applause  in  Court  which  undoubtedly 
contributed  to  the  jury’s  LiUurc  to  agree  upon  a verdict. 
Wilde’s  remarks  were  described  fay  some  who  heard  them  as  the 
finest  speech  of  an  accused  man  since  that  of  Paul  before  King 
Herod  Agrippa.  In  the  third  and  last  trial  Sir  Edward  Clarke,  who 
was  Wilde’s  leading  counsel  throughout,  attacked  Sir  Frank 
Lockwood,  the  Solicitor-General  in  charge  of  the  prosecution,  for 
having  gone  beyond  the  bounds  of  fairness  in  his  presentation  of 
the  Crown’s  case.  The  action  of  a former  law  officer-— Clarke 
had  himself  previously  been  Solicitor-General— in  thus  openly 
impugning  the  professional  conduct  of  his  successor  in  office  is 
probably  unique,  at  any  rate  in  modern  times.  Such  are  the  more 
prominent  features  which  have  combined  to  make  these  trials 
9 


Oscar  Wilde. 


notable  in  British  criminal  annals,  and  which,  it  is  submitted,  justify 
the  publication  of  their  proceedings  here  in  as  full  a form  textually 
as  it  has  been  possible  to  reconstruct  tliem  from  the  sources  available. 

With  tile  exception  of  Mr.  (now  Sir)  Travers  Humphreys,  all 
those  who  actively  participated  in  the  grim  Old  Bailey  drama,  more 
than  fifty  years  ago,  have  passed  away.  First  to  depart  was 
Lockwood,  the  Solicitor-General,  who  was  carried  oil  in  1897,  seem- 
ingly in  the  prime  of  his  life  and  approaching  the  zenith  of  his  career. 
Two  years  later,  Queensberry  followed  Lockwood  to  the  grave,  a 
pathetic  victim  of  persecution  mania,  convinced  to  the  last  that  he  was 
being  harried  to  the  tomb  by  the  “Oscar  Wilders,”  as  he  used  to 
desaibe  his  imaginary  tormentors.  Barely  twelve  months  afterwards 
Wilde  himself  breathed  his  last  in  a small  Paris  hotel,  practically 
destitute  and  deserted  by  all  save  a few  faithful  disciples.  The  others 
followed  at  varying  intervals,  the  last  to  die,  in  1945,  being  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas.  Although  his  place  had  only  been,  as  it  were,  in 
the  wings  of  the  Old  Bailey  stage,  nevcrtlieless  Douglas  had  been 
haunted  through  a long  and  stormy  life  by  recurrent  echoes  of  tlie 
disaster  which  had  overtaken  bis  friend. 

The  accident  of  my  having  as  an  undergradu.ate  occupied 
Wilde’s  old  rooms  in  college  at  Oxford  brought  me  into  touch 
with  Alfred  Douglas;  and,  in  introducing  the  trials  in  the  follow- 
ing pages,  I have  drawn  on  the  information  which  he  gave  me 
in  the  course  of  conversations  and  correspondence.*  I have 
naturally  not  neglected  other  sources  which  have  been  open  to 
me,  but  since  I was  unborn  at  the  time  of  the  trials,  my  authority 
can  only  be  at  best  second-hand.  It  is,  therefore,  particularly 
fortunate  that  Sir  Travers  Humphreys  should  have  survived  to 
recount  his  own  first-hand  recollections  of  the  great  cause  cilhbre  of 
the  nineties,  which  he  has  done  in  the  Foreword  to  this  book. 

For  those  who,  like  myself,  were  not  alive  at  the  time  or  were 
too  young  to  remember,  it  is  difficult  to  visualize  the  strong  public 

1 1 am  also  indebted  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas's  wblished  WTitings,  notably: 
Osear  WilSe  and  Uyielf  (1914),  Autobiography  (1929),  without  Apology  (1938)*  and 
Oscar  Wilde  t A Stemming  Up  (1940),  as  well  as  to  an  interesting  scries  of  MS. 
letters  from  Wilde  to  Douglas  at  present  preserved  in  the  William  Andrews  Clark 
collection  in  the  University  of  Caluornia.  A privately  printed  edition  of  the  latter, 
with  facsimile  reproductions,  was  published  in  San  I^Vancisco  in  1924.  1 should 
mention  too  a long  and  very  interesdog  letter  written  by  Douglas  from  Prance  to 
W.  T.  Stead  shortly  after  the  last  trial,  of  which  the  orig^I  now  in  my 
posses>iion.  See  below,  Appendix  D,  at  p.  360. 

10 


liitniduction. 


leelmgs  ami  prejuilices  piovoked  by  the  QuecniibeiTy  and  Wilde 
trials.  Qiieon.sbcrry’s  acquittal  was  received  with  round  alter  round 
of  cheering  in  Court.  "The  judge,”  so  wrote  the  Daily  Telegraph, 
on  the  morning  of  6th  April,  1805,  “did  not  attempt  to  silence  or 
reprove  the  irrepressible  cheering  in  Court  which  greeted  the 
acquittal  of  this  sorely  provoked  and  cruelly  injured  father.  As 
for  the  prosecutor,  whose  notoriety  has  become  so  infamous  . . . 
we  have  had  enough  of  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde,  who  has  been  the  means 
of  inflicting  on  the  public  during  this  recent  episode  as  much 
moral  damage  of  the  most  hideous  and  repulsive  kind  as  no  single 
individual  could  well  cause.” 

More  disgraceful  scenes  marked  Wilde’s  conviction  a few  weeks 
later.  In  the  street  outside  the  Old  Bailey  prostitutes  lifted  their 
skirts  and  capered  joyfully  at  the  downfall  of  one  whom  they 
regarded  as  a dangerous  competitor  in  trade.  Newspaper  editorials 
no  doubt  reflected  their  readers’  scnlinients  at  the  time  in  their 
pvuCeised  vindkatl<M\  of  ovwnvged  public  vltlue,  but  it  vs  impossible 
to  disguise  the  note  of  pcnsomil  spite  which  characteri/.cd  the 
homilies  of  the  press.  “No  .sterner  rebuke,”  to  quote  the  Daily 
Telegraph,  "could  well  have  been  inflicted  on  some  of  the  artistic 
tendencies  of  the  time  than  the  condemnation  of  Oscar  Wilde  at  the 
Central  Cruxiinal  Comi,  We  have  not  the  slightest  intention  of 
reviewing  once  more  all  the  sordid  incidents  of  a case  which  has 
done  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  to  shock  the  conscience  and 
outrage  the  moral  instincts  of  the  community.  The  man  has  now 
suffered  the  penalties  of  his  career,  and  may  well  be  allowed  to  pass 
from  that  platform  of  publicity  which  he  loved  into  that  limbo  of 
disrepute  and  forgetfulness  which  is  his  due.  The  grave  of  con- 
temptuous oblivion  may  rest  on  his  foolish  ostentation,  his  empty 
paradoxes,  his  insufferable  posturing,  his  incurable  vanity.  Never- 
theless, when  we  remember  that  he  enjoyed  a certain  popularity 
among  some  sections  of  society  and,  above  all,  when  we  reflect  that 
what  was  smiled  at  as  insolent  braggadocio  was  the  cover  for,  or 
at  all  events  ended  in,  flagrant  immorality,  it  is  well,  perhaps,  that 
the  lesson  of  his  life  should  not  be  passed  over  without  some 
insistence  on  the  terrible  warning  of  his  fate.  Young  men  at  the 
universities,  silly  women  who  lend  an  ear  to  any  chatter  which 
Is  petulant  and  vivacious,  novelists  who  have  sought  to  imitate  the 

II 


Oscar  Wilde. 


style  o[  paradox  and  unreality,  poets  who  have  lisped  the  language 
of  nerveless  and  effeminate  libeninage— these  arc  the  persons  who 
should  ponder  with  themselves  the  doctiines  and  the  caiecr  ul  the 
man  who  has  now  to  undergo  the  righteous  sentence  o£  the  law.” 

One  more  example  of  contemporary  journalism  on  the  subject 
is,  perhaps,  worth  repeating.  This  is  what  the  editor  of  the  London 
Evening  News  wrote  on  the  day  of  Wilde’s  conviction ; 

. . Never  has  the  lesson  of  a wasted  life  come  home 
to  us  more  dramatically  and  opportunely.  Enghind  has 
toleiated  the  man  Wilde  and  others  of  his  kind  loo  long. 
Before  he  broke  the  law  of  his  country  and  outraged  human 
decency  he  vvas  a social  pest,  a centre  of  intellectual  corruption. 
He  was  one  of  the  high  priests  of  a school  which  attacks  all 
the  wholejiome,  manly,  simple  ideals  of  English  lile,  and  sets 
up  false  gods  of  decadent  culture  and  intellectual  debauchery. 
The  man  himself  was  a perfect  type  of  his  class,  a gro.ss 
sensualist  veneered  with  the  affectation  of  artistic  feeling  too 
delicate  for  the  appreciation  of  common  clay.  To  Itim  and 
such  as  hmi  we  owe  the  spread  of  moral  dcgener.ition  amongst 
young  men  with  abilities  sufficient  to  make  them  a credit 
to  their  country.  At  the  feet  of  Wilde  iliey  h.tvc  leiirned  to 
gam  notoriety  by  blatant  conceit,  by  despising  the  emotions 
of  healthy  hum<anity  and  the  achievements  of  wliolesorac 
talent. 

“Such  people  find  their  fitting  environment  in  the  aitificial 
light  and  the  incense-laden  air  of  secret  chambers  curtained 
from  the  light  of  day.  Their  pretences  fall  from  them  in  fresh 
air  and  honest  sunshine.  Light  has  been  let  in  upon  them  now 
in  a very  decisive  fashion,  and  we  venture  to  hope  that  the 
conviction  of  Wilde  for  these  abominable  vices,  which  were 
the  natural  outcome  of  his  diseased  intellectual  condition, 
will  be  a salutary  warning  to  the  unhealthy  boys  who  posed 
as  sharers  of  his  culture.  Wilde's  fate  will  teach  them  that 
brilliant  talent  does  not  justify  disdain  of  all  moral  restraints 
...  a delusion  common  to  them,  and  by  no  means  unknown 
amongst  more  honest  folk.  It  has  been  the  fashion  to  concede 
a certain  amount  of  immoral  licence  to  men  of  genius,  and 
it  is  time  that  public  opinion  should  correct  it . . . all  the  more 
when  we  find  a counsel  so  distinguished  as  Sir  Edward  Clarke 
pively  submitting  to  a jury  that  his  client  should  not  be 
judged  as  an  ordinary  man  in  the  matter  of  decent  language 
and  manly  feeling  because  forsooth  he  had  intellectual  powers 
above  the  average." 


12 


Introduction, 


While  the  traditional  British  sense  of  fair  play  can  scarcely  be 
said  to  have  been  very  pronounced  during  these  trials,  on  the  other 
hand  there  can  be  little  if  any  doubt  that  Wilde  was  justly  convicted 
—indeed  he  admitted  as  much  himself  to  friends  with  whom  he 
was  in  touch  both  during  and  after  his  imprisonment.  The  best 
that  can  be  said  for  him  is  that,  so  far  as  is  known,  he  never 
debauched  any  innocent  young  men.  All  his  accomplices,  on  the 
strength  of  whose  evidence  he  was  condemned,  were  already  steeped 
in  vice  before  Wilde  met  them,  and  two  at  least  were  notorious  and 
self-confessed  blackmailers.  Furthermore,  the  oflence  of  which 
Wilde  was  accused  had  been  declared  criminal  by  Parliament  less 
than  ten  years  before,  and,  according  to  most  if  not  all  Continental 
codes  of  lasv,  was  not  a crime  at  all.  But  these  factors,  though 
they  mtiy  be  extenuating  in  effect,  do  not  leally  excuse  Wilde. 

It  may  also  he  pointed  out  that  Wilde  was  not  charged  with 
being  a vicious  person,  aklimigh,  as  will  he  seen,  Lord  Qiiecnsbcrry, 
in  the  defamatory  words  for  which  he  (Queensberry)  was  prosecuted 
in  the  first  trial,  aceuseil  him  of  “[xising”  as  siicli.  Mad  it  been 
otlu'rwi.se,  Wikle  wotild  have  Ixen  liable  to  a maximum  sentence 
of  penal  servitude  for  life.  As  it  watt,  the  offence  of  wliich  he  was 
indicted— the  conimissiuu  of  acts  of  indecency  in  private  with 
mcmhccs  of  his  own  sex— ctrried  with  it  in  his  case  the  maximum 
sentence  of  two  years'  imprisonment  with  hard  labour,  a sentence 
which  the  judge  who  passed  it  described  as  being  “totally  inadequate 
for  such  a ca.se  as  this.”  Not  everyone  to-day  would  agree  with  the 
fairness  of  this  judicial  siriaure.  Indeed,  had  there  existed  any 
facilities  for  a condemned  man  to  appeal  against  conviction  and 
sentence  half  a century  ago,  it  is  possible  that  the  sentence  in  Wilde’s 
case  would  have  been  reduced.  My  personal  belief,  however,  is 
that  the  conviction  would  have  been  upheld. 

There  are  still,  after  such  a long  lapse  of  time,  unfortunately 
some  people  who  seem  incapable  of  discussing  the  Wilde  trials  either 
rationally  or  accurately.  Their  misstatements  may,  of  course,  be 
due  to  ignorance  of  the  facts  of  the  trials.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  there  is  good  reason  for  this  ignorance.  Contemporary  news- 
paper accounts  are  garbled  and  one-sided.  References  to  the  trials 
in  biographies  of  Wilde,  though  numerous,  are  frequently  mislead- 
ing. The  official  Court  shorthand-writers  and  compilers  of  the 

13 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Central  Criminal  Court  Sessiant  Papers,  who  might  have  been 
expected  to  present  tlie  facts  objectively,  declined  to  print  the  pro- 
ceedings of  any  of  the  trials  on  the  ground  that  the  details  disclosed 
by  them  were  “unfit  for  publication.”®  It  was  not  until  1912  that 
Wilde’s  industrious  bibliographer,  Christopher  Millard  (otherwise 
known  as  Stuart  Mason),  assisted  by  the  publisher  Mr.  Cecil 
Palmer,  ventured  to  produce,  with  an  anonymity  wliich  public  feel- 
ing on  the  subject  of  Wilde  sdll  rendered  necessary,  the  first  full 
length  and  impartial  aaount  of  the  proceedings.  This  work  has 
long  been  out  of  print.®  But,  though  it  was  by  far  the  fullest  record 
of  the  three  trials  which  had  hitherto  appeared,  it  did  not  purport 
to  give  the  proceedings  verbatim  and  with  the  necessary  introductory 
background  such  as  would  enable  the  evidence  to  be  correctly  appre- 
ciated. 

It  is  vvith  the  intention  of  dispelling  prevalent  misconceptions, 
and  at  the  same  time  of  making  the  texts  of  the  trials  substantially 
available  in  their  proper  perspective,  that  I have  attempted  to  set 
down  in  the  following  pages  exactly  what  happened  during  those 
dramatic  days  at  the  Old  Bailey  in  the  spring  of  1895.  Ihit  first 
it  is  desirable  briefly  to  narrate  the  events  and  to  describe  the 
conflict  of  personalities  which  led  up  to  the  initial  catastrophe. 


II 

The  cause  of  Oscar  Wilde’s  first  dramatic  appearance  at  the  Old 
Bailey  was  the  friendship  which  he  had  formed  with  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas,  third  son  of  the  eighth  Marquess  of  Queensberry.  The 
father  objected  to  this  association  on  his  son’s  part,  and  after  numerous 
unsuccessful  attempts  to  break  it  up  Lord  Queensberry  finally 
resorted  to  a characteristic  vulgar  and  offensive  action  which  was 
calculated  to  bring  the  issue  to  a head.  On  the  afternoon  of  i8th 


3 Sessions  Pa^rs,  exxi,  531-531, 

3 Oscar  Wilati  Three  Tims  Tried,  London,  1913.  It  transpired  during  the 
trial  of  Douglas  v.  Ranseme  in  1913  (see  below,  p.  95  and  note)  that,  when  it 
■Brst  appeared,  The  Times  Book  Cluo  refused  to  circulate  this  pumicatinn  among 
Its  subscribers. 


14 


Introihictioii. 


Febriiarv,  iSiis,  1><'  ("illfd  at  Wildr'i  cliili  in  laindcin  and  left 
with  the  portei  a card  tin  wliich  lie  had  written  nunc  defamatory 
words.  Wilde  was  handed  the  card  on  his  nest  vi.sit  to  the  cluh, 
and,  having  taken  legal  advke,  hr  einharked  on  the  coiinse  which 
was  eventually  to  land  him  in  prison  and  hi.s  friend  in  exile, 

Wilde  and  Dimghi.s  had  then  known  each  other  for  rather  mote 
than  three  years.  At  the  time  of  their  finst  meeting  Wilde  was  thirty- 
eight  and  Douglas  twenty  two.  The  elder  man  was  well  known 
in  London  as  a witty  conversationalist,  who  had  also  achieved 
some  success  as  a poet  and  writer  of  fiction,  but  as  yet  he  had  shown 
litde  evidence  of  his  skill  as  a dramatist : he  was  married  to  a 
pretty  but  not  very  clever  wife,  who  had  borne  him  two  children. 
The  younger  man  was  an  undcrgradu.itc  at  Oxford,  gifted  witli 
decided  poetic  talents  as  well  as  extraordinary  good  looks.  He  was 
known  to  his  friends  as  "Ho-sic"  Douglas,  "Bo, sic”  being  a contrac- 
tion for  "Boy, sic,”  whirh  he  had  been  called  when  a child  by  his 
fond  and  indtilgent  luolhei.  (Us  prculUr  good  looks  and  youthful 
appeanma’,  which  la.sted  well  into  middle  age,  proved  in  many  ways 
a airse  rather  than  a hle-vsiitg.  A,s  Mr.  Brrnanl  Sluiw  put  it  in  a 
letter  to  Douglas  writiea  in  phi,  which  Douglas  .showed  me  in 
that  year,  “that  llciwer  like  -soit  of  Iwauly  mu.st  have  been  a horrible 
handicap  to  you;  ii  was  poihahly  nature's  reaction  against  the 
ultra-hickory  type  in  your  father,”' 

The  two  men  were  introducetl  by  another  pnet,  Lionel  Johnson, 
who  brought  "Bosic"  to  lea  at  Wilde’s  house  in  Titc  Street  one 
afternoon  during  the  summer  of  iSpt.  They  immediately  became 
warm  friends.  Douglas  found  in  the  cider  man  a most  entertaining 
companion,  and  it  flattered  his  vanity  to  be  seen  in  Wilde’s  com- 
pany. Wilde,  on  the  other  hand,  was  drawn  to  Douglas’s  lively 
intellect  as  well  as  Adonis-likc  appearance,  and  he  was  also 
influenced  by  the  fact— for  like  many  Irishmen,  there  was  a strong 
vein  of  snobbery  in  his  make-up— that  his  newly-found  young 
friend  was  a lord.  On  Wilde's  side  the  friendship  rapidly  developed 
into  infatuation,  and  he  made  no  secret  of  his  feelings.  “He  was 

^ Lord  AUied  Bruce  Douglas  (iS70'|m45)  was  educated  at  Wiiichester  and 
Ma^fllcn  College,  Oxford,  in  spite  <x  the  eminence  which  he  subsequently 
achieved  as  a poet,  his  life  was  almoit  incessontlv  dogged^  by  controversy.  See 
his  own  writings,  particularly  Atitobfagr/tphy  (1929}  and  Whhottt  Apolo^  (15138). 
the  biography  by  Patrick  Braybrookc  (1931)1  ond  the  obituary  notice  in  Tjte  Tmet, 
aist  March.  1945— also  rccttii  biography  by  William  Freeman  (1948). 

15 


Oscar  Wilde. 


continually  asking  me  to  lunch  and  dine  with  him,”  Douglas  sub- 
sequently admitted,  "imd  sending  me  letters,  notes  and  telegrams. 
He  flattered  me,  gave  me  presents,  and  made  much  of  me  in  every 
way.  He  gave  me  copies  of  all  his  books,  with  inscriptions  in  them. 
He  wrote  a sonnet  to  me,  and  gave  it  to  me  one  night  in  a 
restaurant.®  That  was  after  I had  known  him  about  six  months  ” 
Soon  they  were  hardly  ever  out  of  each  other’s  sight.  They  stayed 
in  each  other’s  houses  and  occasionally  in  hotels  together  and  went 
for  trips  abroad.  Eventually,  when  Wilde  was  in  Reading  gaol, 
he  turned  against  his  friend  and,  in  the  suppressed  portion  of  De 
Profundis,  accused  him  of  having  made  him  waste  his  time ; how- 
ever, the  fact  remains  that  Wilde  wrote  his  best  plays  during  the 
period  of  their  association.  Gradually  Douglas  on  his  side  was 
completely  captivated  by  Wilde’s  charm,  and  in  the  end  he  was 
without  doubt  more  devoted  to  Wilde  than  tltc  elder  man  had 
ever  been  to  him.  “He  is  the  most  chivalrous  friend  in  the  world,” 
wrote  Douglas  after  they  had  known  each  other  for  about  two 
years,  “he  is  the  only  man  I know  who  would  have  the  courasc  to 
put  his  arm  on  the  shoulder  of  an  ex-convict  and  walk  down 
Piccadilly  with  him,  and  combine  witli  that  the  wit  and  personality 
to  carry  it  off  so  well  thiit  nobody  would  mind."  When  Wilde 
died  in  1900,  Douglas  returned  the  tribute  he  had  received  in 
the  early  days  of  their  friendship  by  wridng  “The  Dead  Poet,” 
a sonnet  which  has  been  jusdy  rated  amongst  the  finest  in  our 
language. 

What  impressed  Douglas,  as  it  did  many  others,  was  the 
magical  quality  of  Wilde’s  conversation.  “I  have  never  known 
anyone  to  come  anywhere  near  him,"  Douglas  told  me, 
looking  back  more  than  thirty  years  after  Wilde’s  death.  "He 
did  succeed  in  weaving  spells.  One  sat  and  listened  to  him 
enthralled.  It  all  appeared  to  be  Wisdom  and  Power  and  Beauty 
and  Enchantment.  It  was  indeed  enchantment  and  nothing  else.” 

“And  as  of  old  in  music  measureless 
I heard  his  golden  voice,  and  marked  him  trace 
Under  the  common  thing  the  hidden  grace. 


* The  sonnet  was  entitled  “The  New  Remorse,'* 
complete  edltioo  o£  Wilde’s  poems. 


16 


and  has  been  published  In  the 


Introduction. 


And  conjure  wonder  out  of  emptiness, 

Till  mean  things  put  on  Beauty  like  a dicss 
And  all  the  world  was  an  enchanted  place."'' 

Unfortunately  there  was  a Ics.s  pleasant  side  to  the  pictuie, 
Wilde  had  begun  to  indulge  in  homosexual  practices  at  least  six 
years  before  he  first  met  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.**  Because  of  the 
evidence  given  at  his  trials  by  a series  of  juvenile  delinquents 
with  whom  Wilde  was  proved  to  have  been  on  terms  of  criminal 
indmacy,  it  was  generally  assumed  at  the  time — and  also  later — 
that  Douglas  was  an  accomplice  in  these  practices.  The  foreman 
of  the  jury  in  the  last  trial  actually  asked  the  judge  whether  a 
warrant  had  been  issued  for  Lord  Alfred’s  arrest.  In  his  Auto- 
biography, which  was  published  in  1929,  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
confessed  that  tor  a short  time  there  did  occur  between  them 
ceitain  ‘‘familiarities’’  of  the  kind  which  not  infrequently  take 
place  among  boys  at  Englifib  public  schools;  but,  he  went  on,  “of 
the  sin  which  takes  its  name  from  one  of  the  cities  of  the  Pliiin 
there  never  was  the  slightest  question.  1 give  this  as  my  .solemn 
word  before  God,  as  I hope  to  be  saved.” 

In  fact  Wilde  always  claimed  that  his  love  for  Douglas  was  ideal 
and  spiritual.  “It  has  always  a reaching  up  for  the  ideal,”  Wilde 
said  afterwards,  “and  in  the  end  it  became  utterly  ideal.”  Nor, 
although  Douglas’s  remarkable  physique  no  doubt  made  a strong 

3 Lord  Alfred  Dougins,  Complete  Poems  (1928),  nt  p.  82.  Cp.  the  judpraent 
of  Robert  Ross,  another  particularly  (dose  friend  of  Wilde's  and  later  hi!!  Literary 
executor:  "It  will  always  be  difficult  for  us  to  convey  to  those  who  never  knew 
him,  or  who,  knowing  him,  disliked  him,  the  cxtraoidmary  magnetism  which  he 
exerted  at  least  on  the  needles,  if  not  the  silver  ch1lr^^  o£  life.  As  in  the  Cable  of 
a gold  and  silver  shield  every  one  received  entirely  different  Impressions  according 
to  the  method  of  their  approach  and  the  accident  of  acquaintance.  ...  It  is 
impossible  to  echo  even  faintly  that  voice  *which  conjured  wonder  out  of  emptU 
ness.*  He  was  indeed  a conjurer.  To  Calk  with  him  was  to  be  translated  to  an 
enchanted  island  or  to  the  palaces  of  die  Fata  Morgana.  You  could  not  tell  what 
Aowers  weie  at  your  feet  or  what  fiintaidc  architecture  was  silhouetted  against  the 

Eurpte  atmosphere  of  his  convemddn."  Sec  fuither  Ross’s  remarks  in  Ado 
cverson’s  Letters  to  the  Sphinx  (1930). 

^ The  most  likely  pathological  explanation  of  Wilde’s  peculiar  habits  lies  in  the 
fact  that  shortly  after  his  marriage  he  was  obliged  to  discontinue  physical  leladons 
with  his  wife.  This  is  stated  to  have  been  due  to  the  recurrence  of  syphilis  in  his 
system,  whldi  he  Imd  originally  contracted  ot  Oxford  and  of  which  he  had  imaipned 
himself  to  be  cured.  He  was  supposed  to  have  been  treated  with  mercury  injections, 
which  had  the  effect  of  turning  his  teeth  black.  It  is  highly  probable  that  his 
death  was  hastened  by  this  malady.  For  further  details,  see  below,  Appendix  E, 
at  p.  360. 


Oscar  Wilde. 


impression  upon  tire  sensual  side  of  Wilde’s  nature,  was  there  any- 
thing either  effete  or  effeminate  about  the  younger  man,  either  in  his 
appearance  or  in  his  manners.  As  an  adrlete,  Douglas  was  decidedly 
above  the  average.  He  won  several  open  running  events  both  at 
Winchester  and  Magdalen,  and  he  always  put  up  a creditable  per- 
formance in  the  hunting  field.  Apart  from  the  occasional  “familiari- 
ties” already  referred  to,  which  could  hardly  in  die  circumstances 
have  formed  the  basis  of  any  criminal  charge,  there  was  probably 
nothing  impure  or  improper  in  the  relations  between  the  two  men.'’ 
Unfortunately  for  Douglas,  the  outside  world,  including  his  own 
father,  thought  otherwise.  This  belief  gained  substance  from  a 
number  of  letters  written  by  Wilde  m Douglas  in  which  the  writer 
declared  in  characteristic  terms  his  admiration  for  his  young  friend. 

To  writers  of  ordinary  day-to-day  correspondence,  as  Sir  Edward 
Clarke  put  it  in  his  opening  speech  at  the  first  trial,  the  language 
used  by  Wilde  in  his  communications  to  Douglas  must  .seem 
decidedly  extravagant  in  tenor.  They  certainly  were  unusual  letters 
for  one  man  to  write  to  another,  but  though  highly  coloured,  they 
can  scarcely  be  said  to  be  improper.  However,  but  for  an  act  of 
carelessness  on  Douglas’s  part  these  communications  need  never 
have  gone  beyond  the  knowledge  of  their  original  sender  and 
recipient. 

While  still  up  at  Oxford,  Douglas  gave  an  old  suit  of 
his  clothes  to  an  unemployed  clerk  named  Wood,  whom  he  had 
befriended.  In  the  pockets  he  had  unfortunately  overlooked  a 
number  of  the  letters  in  question,  which  Wood,  in  conjunction  with 
two  professional  blackmailers  named  Allen  and  Clibborn,  pro- 
ceeded to  use  as  a means  of  extorting  money  from  Wilde.  Copies 
of  the  more  seemingly  compromising  cpisties  were  made  by  the 
blackmailers,  and  one  such  copy  was  first  sent  to  the  actor- 
manager  Beerbohm  Tree,  who  was  then  rehearsing  Wilde’s  play 


s On  the  other  hand  it  would  seem  beyond  dispute  that  Douglas  was  funda- 
mentally homosexual  at  this  time  and  tlut  he  indulged  in  homosexual  practices 
with  others,  if  not  with  Wildfr— a fact  of  which  Wilde  later  lost  no  opportunitr  to 
remind  him  in  the  long  letter  which  he  addressed  Douglas  from  prison  and  wnich 
has  been  pablished  in  part  under  the  title  Dc  Profundis,  Robeit  Ross  went  so 
as  to  maintain  that,  not  only  did  Douglas  participate  in  moat  of  Wilde’s  "sins,” 
but  that  "Alfred  Douglas  was  the  cause  ot  Oscar  Wilde’s  ruin  both  before  and 
after  the  imprisonment.’'  See  letter  da^  2ist  March,  igio,  torn  Boss  to  Aodrd 
Gide,  (quoted  by  Gide  in  his  5s  le  Crain  Ne  Mem  (1928),  at  p.  331. 

r8 


Introduction. 


A Woman  of  No  Importance  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre.  This 
was  the  letter  beginning:  “My  own  Boy,  your  sonnet  is  quite 
lovely,”  and  subsequently  introduced  in  evidence  at  the  trials.  Tree 
immediately  handed  the  copy  to  Wilde,  remarldng  as  he  did  so 
that  its  sentiments  were  open  to  misconstruction.  Wilde  airily 
explained  that  it  was  really  a “prase  poem,”  and  if  put  into  verse 
that  it  might  be  printed  in  such  a respectable  anthology  as  the 
Golden  Treasury.  A rendering  of  it  in  French  verse  was  in  fact 
made  shordy  afterwards  by  the  French  poet  Pierre  Louys,  and  this 
version  was  published  in  The  Spirit  Lamp,  an  undergraduate 
magazine  in  Oxford  then  edited  by  Lord  Alfred  Douglas. 

A little  later  Wood  succeeded  in  extorting  from  Wilde  in 
return  for  a bundle  of  his  letters  to  Douglas,  which  he  alleged  had 
been  stolen  from  him  by  Allen  and  which  he  had  recovered  with 
the  aid  of  a detective.  The  money  was  good  humouiedly  handed 
over  on  the  pretext  of  enabling  Wood  to  start  a new  life  in 
America.  But  Wood  did  not  remain  in  America  for  long,  He  was 
soon  back  in  London,  and  he  was  to  give  evidence  against  his 
benefactor  at  the  Old  Bailey.  What  is  more,  on  examining  the 
letters  more  closely  after  Wood  had  gone,  Wilde  discovered  that 
the  original  of  that  of  which  a copy  had  been  sent  to  Tree  was  not 
among  them. 

In  due  course  Allen  turned  up  at  Wilde’s  house.  “I  suppose 
you  have  come  about  my  beautiful  letter  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,” 
Wilde  said  to  him.  "If  you  had  not  been  so  foolish  as  to  send 
a copy  of  it  to  Mr.  Bcerbohm  Tree,  I would  gladly  have  paid  you 
a very  large  sum  of  money  for  the  letter,  as  I consider  it  to  be  a 
work  of  art.” 

“A  very  curious  construction  can  be  put  on  that  letter,"  the 
blackmailer  murmured. 

“Art  is  rarely  intelligible  to  the  criminal  classes,”  rejoined  Oscar. 

“A  man  has  offered  me  ,{60  for  it.” 

“If  you  will  take  my  advice  you  will  go  to  that  man  and  sell  my 
letter  to  him  for  £60.  I myself  have  never  received  so  large  a sum 
for  any  prose  work  of  that  length : but  I am  glad  to  find  iat  there 
is  some  one  in  England  who  considers  a letter  of  mine  worth 
£60." 


19 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Allen  had  looked  somewhal  taken  aback.  On  lecovcring  his 
composure  he  said;  “The  man  is  out  of  town.” 

"He  is  sure  to  come  back,”  answered  Wilde,  who  repeated  his 
advice. 

The  would-be  blackmailer  had  changed  his  tone  and  admitted 
that  he  was  in  urgent  need  of  money  and  had  been  trying  to 
find  Wilde  for  some  time.  Wilde  said  he  could  not  guarantee  him 
his  cab  expenses,  but  that  he  would  gladly  give  him  half  a 
sovereign.  As  Allen  pocketed  the  money,  Wilde  remarked,  “The 
letter  is  a prose  poem,  will  shortly  be  published  in  sonnet  form  in 
a delightful  magazine,  and  I will  send  you  a copy  of  it.” 

Five  minutes  later  Clibborn,  the  third  blackmailer,  rang  the 
bell  of  the  house  in  Tite  Street.  By  this  rime  Wilde  was  getting 
somewhat  tired.  “I  cannot  bother  any  more  about  this  matter," 
he  said  on  going  out  to  him. 

To  Wilde’s  surprise  the  caller  produced  the  original  letter  from 
his  pocket  and  said ; "Allen  has  asked  me  to  give  it  back  to  you.” 

Wilde  did  not  take  it  immediately,  but  asked : “Why  does  Allen 
give  me  back  this  letter?” 

“Well,  he  says  you  were  kind  to  him,  and  there  is  no  use  trying 
to  rent*  you,  as  you  only  laugh  at  us.” 

“I  will  accept  it  back,”  Wilde  now  declared  taking  the  letter, 
"and  you  can  thank  Allen  from  me  for  all  the  anxiety  he  has  shown 
about  it.” 

Then  looking  at  the  letter,  and  seeing  that  it  had  become  badly 
soiled,  Wilde  went  on  in  his  customary  vein  of  banter.  “I  think  it 
quite  unpardonable  that  better  care  was  not  taken  of  this  original 
manuscript  of  mine.” 

At  this  Clibborn  expiessed  regret,  but  pointed  out  it  had  been  in 
so  many  hands. 

Wilde  thereupon  gave  him  half  a sovereign  likewise  for  his 
pains,  saying  as  he  did  so,  “I  am  afraid  you  are  leading  a wonder- 
fully wicked  life.” 

“ There  is  good  and  bad  in  every  one  of  us,”  said  Clibborn. 

'Ton  are  a born  philosopher,”  Wilde  told  him.  And  on  this 
note  they  parted. 

• A contemporary  slang  term  meaning  blackmail. 

20 


Introduction . 


Wilde  had  succeeded  in  recovering  this  letter  in  which  he  had 
written  to  his  friend  that  “it  is  a marvel  that  those  rose-red  Ups  of 
yours  should  have  been  made  no  less  for  music  of  song  than  for 
madness  of  kisses.” 

Unfortunately  for  the  writer  of  diis  epistle  a copy  had  fallen 
into  Lord  Queensberry’s  hands.  And  Queensberry  did  not  see  the 
matter  in  the  same  light  as  Beetbohm  Tree  had  done. 


Ill 

John  Sholto  Douglas,  eighth  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  was  a 
Scottish  nobleman  of  decidedly  eccentric  character;  indeed,  to  judge 
from  his  recorded  actions  and  utterances,  he  may  be  Uiken  to  have 
been  mentally  unbalanced.  His  princip.al  preoccupations  were 
sport  and  atheism,  and  he  knew  much  more  about  his  horses  and 
dogs  than  about  the  human  mcmliers  of  his  family,  He  had,  how- 
ever, proved  himself  a successful  steeplechaser  and  an  efBcient 
Master  of  Hounds,  and  he  had  also  been  an  amateur  light-weight 
boxing  cliampion.  Apart  from  his  ill-fated  quarrel  with  Wilde, 
he  is  chiefly  remembered  as  the  author  of  the  rules  wliich  govern 
amateur  boxing  and  which  bear  his  name.  But  his  professions  of 
atheism  had  already  won  for  him  a contemporary  notoriety.  As  a 
representadve  peer  of  Scotland  he  had  refused  to  take  the  oath  in 
the  House  of  Lords  on  the  ground  that  this  necessary  preliminary 
was  a mere  “Chrisdan  tomfoolery."  In  his  private  life  he  was  no 
less  objccdonable.  He  bullied  his  wife,  who  subsequently  divorced 
him,  and  neglected  his  children,  preferring  instead  the  society  of 
his  mistresses  and  his  sporting  cronies.  He  was  arrogant,  vain, 
conceited  and  iU-tempered.^  His  fury  at  his  eldest  son.  Lord 
Drumlanrig,  who  was  Lord  Rosebery’s  private  secretary,  being 
created  an  English  peer,®  led  to  a ridiculous  scene  at  Homburg, 

'The  eighth  Marquess  (i£  Queensberry  (1844-1900)  was  6rst  married  to  Sybil, 
daughter  of  Alfred  Montgomery,  by  whom  he  was  divorced  in  1B87.  There  were 
four  sons  and  one  daughter  of  this  marriage.  Ho  married  again  in  1S93,  and  this 
mamaie,  of  which  there  was  no  issue,  was  annulled  in  1894.  On  him  and  the 
Queensberry  family  gienerally,  see  Lord  Al&ed  Douglas,  Ambiomphy  (igao),  and 
Francis,  tenth  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  The  Sporting  Queensbemys  (1945^ 

a Francis  Archibald  (Douglas),  Viscount  Drumlanrig  (1867-1894)  was  raised 
to  the  peerage  as  Lord  Kelhead  in  1893.  A.  year  later  fus  political  career  of  great 
promise  was  suddenly  cut  short  by  his  death  as  the  result  of  a shooting  accident. 

21 


Oscar  Wilde. 


whither  the  irate  Marquess  pursued  the  Prime  Minister  (as  Rosebery 
then  was)  with  a dog  whip.  Peace  was  only  preserved  as  the  result 
of  the  personal  intervention  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  eccentric  Marquess  learned  of  his 
third  son’s  being  seen  about  with  "this  man  Wilde,”  as  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  describing  Alfred’s  friend.  A few  months  after  the 
momentous  introduction  in  Tite  Street,  Queensberry  told  his  son 
that  he  must  give  up  knowing  Wilde,  as  he  was  not  a fit  man  to 
associate  with.  Alfred  Douglas  refused,  the  Marquess  got  angry 
and  threatened  to  cut  his  allowance.  Then  the  difference  was  for 
a while  smoothed  over.  Wilde  and  Douglas  happened  to  be  lunch- 
ing together  one  day  towards  the  end  of  1892  in  the  Cafe  Royal 
and  noticed  Queensberry  glowering  at  them  from  an  adjoining 
table.  At  Wilde’s  prompting  Douglas  got  up  and  went  over  to  his 
father,  who  somewhat  reluctantly  consented  to  be  introduced  to 
Wilde,  and  the  three  men  sat  down  and  finished  their  lunch 
together.  In  a very  short  time  Queensberry  was  completely 
capdvated  by  Wilde’s  charm  of  manner  and  conversation,  the 
lunch  was  prolonged  over  liqueurs  and  cigars,  and  about  three 
o’clock  Douglas  left  them  in  an  animated  discussion  of  Christianity 
and  atheism.  Immediately  after  this  Queensberry  wrote  to  his  son 
saying  that  he  took  back  everything  he  had  previously  said  about 
Wilde,  whom  he  considered  charming  and  extremely  clever. 
Unfortunately  the  calm  was  short  lived.  Soon  Queensberry  was 
writing  his  son  abusive  letters  threatening  once  more  to  cut  him 
off  if  he  did  not  drop  Wilde.  This  correspondence  culminated  in  a 
most  insulting  missive,  which  was  subsequently  read  out  in  Court 
by  Sir  Edward  Clarke  at  the  first  trial. 

“Your  intimacy  with  this  man  Wilde,”  wrote  Queensberry  on 
1st  April,  1894,  “must  either  cease  or  I will  disown  you  and  stop 
all  money  supplies.  I am  not  going  to  try  and  analyse  this 
intimacy,  and  I make  no  charge;  but  to  my  mind  to  pose  as  a thing 
is  as  bad  as  to  be  it.  With  my  own  eyes  I saw  you  both  in  the 
most  bathsome  and  disgusting  relationship  as  expressed  by  your 
manner  and  expression.  Never  in  my  experience  have  I seen  such 
a sight  as  that  in  your  horrible  features.  No  wonder  people  arc 
talking  as  they  are.  Also  I now  hear  on  good  authority,  but  this 
may  be  false,  that  his  wife  is  petitioning  to  divorce  him  for  sodomy 
22 


Introduction, 


and  other  crimes.  Is  this  true,  or  do  you  not  know  o£  it.  If  I 
thought  the  actual  thing  was  true,  and  it  became  public  property, 
1 should  be  quite  justified  in  shooting  him  at  sight." 

To  this  amazing  efiusion  Alfred  Douglas  replied  in  a celebrated 
telegram : "What  a fuimy  little  man  you  are." 

Queensberry  was  now  bordering  on  frenzy  and  he  promptly 
threatened  to  give  his  impertinent  young  jackanapes  of  a son  “the 
thrashing  you  deserve,”  should  he  send  any  similar  communication  i 
in  future.  “If  I catch  you  again  with  that  man,"  he  continued,  “I 
will  make  a public  scandal  in  a way  you  little  dream  of;  it  is  already 
a suppressed  one.  I prefer  an  open  one,  and  at  any  rate  I shall  not 
be  blamed  for  allowing  such  things  to  go  on."  He  then  proceedeil 
to  visit  the  various  restaurants  frequented  by  Wilde  and  his  son, 
warning  the  managers  and  maitres  d'kStel  that  he  would  thrash 
them  both  if  he  discovered  them  together  on  the  premises.  Douglas 
reacted  to  these  tactics  by  making  a point  of  going  to  these 
restaurants,  writing  to  his  father  with  details  of  lime  and  place 
and  invldng  him  to  come  along  and  “see  what  happened  to  him” 
if  he  started  any  of  his  “ruffianly  tricks.” 

Wilde  was  now  beginning  to  feel  worried  by  these  unwelcome 
attentions  on  Queensberry’s  part  For  one  thing,  they  interfered 
with  his  professional  work  and  they  disturbed  the  peace  of  mind 
which  he  needed  as  a writer.  On  the  advice  apparently  of  Ids 
friend  and  future  Hteiary  executor,  Robert  Ross,’  he  consulted  the 
well-known  firm  of  solicitors,  C.  O,  Humphreys,  Son  & Kershaw, 
as  to  whether  the  letter  about  him  and  his  wife  was  actionable  and 
whether  anything  could  be  done  to  restrain  Queensberry’s  violent 
and  offensive  behaviour.  He  discussed  the  matter  with  the  senior 
partner,  Mr.  Charles  Octavius  Humphreys,  a most  experienced 
criminal  lawyer,  who  in  fact  was  to  represent  Wilde  in  the  subse- 
quent proceedings  against  Queensberry;  but  he  was  eventually  dis- 
suaded from  taking  the  matter  further  by  Alfred  Douglas’s  cousin, 
George  Wyndham,  M.P.,  who  was  prompted  to  intervene  by  his 

^ Robert  Baldwin  Ross  (1869-1918)  was  die  son  of  the  Hon,  John  Ross,  Q.C., 
Attorney-General  for  Upper  Canada.  In  addition  to  his  connexion  with  Wilde,  he 
became  known  as  a journalist  and  an  auriiority  on  pictures.  He  was  also  reput^ 
to  be  addicted  to  the  same  practices  as  his  friend.  On  Ids  life,  particularly  in 
relation  to  Wilde  and  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  see  the  latter's  ColUcted  Satires  (1926) 
and  Autobiography  (1929);  also  The  Life  and  Genius  of  T.  W.  H.  Crosland  (1928), 
by  W Sorley  Brown.  See  also  Appendix  E below,  at  p.  372. 


Oscar  Wilde. 


niitural  desire  to  avert  a family  scandal.*  It  was  agreed  between 
them  that  Wilde  was  at  least  entitled  to  an  apology  and  that 
Humphreys  should  write  to  the  Marquess  and  demand  one,  This 
was  accordingly  done,  but  Queensberry  flatly  refused  to  make  any 
amends.  “I  certainly  shall  not  tender  to  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  any 
apology  lor  letters  I have  written  to  my  son,"  he  wrote  back  to 
Humphreys. 

Had  Wdde  prosecuted  Queensberry  for  aiminal  libel  at  the 
time  of  this  interview— May,  1894— instead  of  waiting  for  nearly 
twelve  months,  by  which  dme  more  damning  evidence  against 
himself  had  become  available,  it  is  quite  possible  that  Queensberry 
would  have  been  convicted  and  silenced.  That  Wilde  regretted  this 
is  apparent  from  a leuer  he  wrote  Douglas  almost  immediately  after- 
wards. “Your  father  is  on  the  rampage  again— been  to  the  Cafi! 
Royal  to  inquire  after  us— with  threats,  6tc.  I think  now  it  would 
have  been  better  for  me  to  have  had  him  bound  over  to  keep  the 
peace.  But  what  a scandal  1 Sdll,  it  is  intolerable  to  be  dogged 
by  a maniac." 

For  a tune  Wilde  managed  to  escape  further  bother  by  going 
to  Worthing,  where  he  took  a house  and  wrote  wliat  was  to  be  his 
best  and  most  successful  play,  The  Importance  of  Being  Earnest. 
But  business  necessarily  brought  him  back  to  town  from  time  to 
time,  and  it  was  during  one  of  these  visits  that  there  occurred  the 
most  extraordinary  and  dramatic  meeting  between  himself  and 
Queensberry  and  the  last  until  their  final  historic  encounter  in  the 
Coiuts.  One  June  afternoon  “the  scarlet  Marquess,”  as  Wilde 
called  him,  presented  himself  at  Wilde’s  house  in  Chelsea  without 
any  previous  warning.  He  was  accompanied,  to  quote  Wilde 
again,  “by  a gendeman  with  whom  I was  not  acquainted’’— in  fact 
a prize-fighter.  The  interview  took  place  in  the  library. 

“Sit  down,”  said  the  Marquess,  as  Wilde  walked  over  to  the 
fireplace. 

WUde  turned  on  him.  “I  do  not  allow  anyone  to  talk  like  that 
to  me  in  my  house  or  anywhere  else,” 

Then  he  continued ; “I  suppose  you  have  come  to  apologize  for 
the  statement  you  made  about  my  wife  and  myself  in  letters  you 

* George  Wyndham  (1863-1913),  polhkUn  aod  writer,  was  the  elder  son  of  the 
Hon.  Percy  Scawen  Wyndham  and  a grandson  of  the  ist  Baron  Lcconlicld. 

24 


Introduction, 


wrote  to  your  ‘lon.  I should  have  tire  light  any  d.iy  I thosu  to 
prosecute  you  foi  wilting  such  a lettei.” 

“The  letter  was  ptivilcged,”  interrupted  Queensbcny,  “as  it  was 
wiitten  to  my  son." 

This  tune  it  was  Wilde’s  turn  to  be  angry. 

"How  dare  you  say  such  dungs  to  me  about  your  son  and  me?” 

Quecnsbeiiy  went  on  seemingly  unabashed.  "You  were  both 
kicked  out  of  the  Savoy  Hotel  at  a moment's  notice  for  vour 
disgusting  conduct.” 

"That  is  a lie." 

“You  have  taken  furnished  rooms  for  him  in  Piccadilly.” 

“Somebody  has  been  tellmg  you  an  absurd  set  of  lies  about 
your  son  and  me.  I have  not  done  anything  of  the  kind.” 

“I  hear  you  weic  thoroughly  well  blackmailed  foi  a disgusting 
letter  you  wrote  to  my  soo.” 

Again  Wilde  piotestcd.  “The  lettei  was  a hrautiful  letltr,  and 
I nevei  wuic  except  foi  publication  ’’ 

Wilde  theieupon  changed  his  tone  to  one  of  the  utmost  seibiis- 
ncss.  “Lord  Quccnsberiy,”  he  asked  his  cmbaiiassiiig  callei,  “(In 
you  seriously  accuse  your  son  and  me  of  impiopei  conduct?” 

Queensbeuy  thought  for  a moment.  “I  do  not  say  you  arc  it,” 
he  said,  “but  you  look  it,  and  you  pose  as  it,  which  is  ju.st  as  bad. 
If  I catch  you  and  my  son  togcthei  in  any  public  lestauiant,  I will 
thrash  you." 

Although  thus  confronted  with  a bully  and  a bruiser,  Wilde  did 
not  betray  the  slightest  fear.  “I  do  not  know  wliat  the  Queensberry 
rules  are,”  he  told  his  unwelcome  guest,  "but  the  Oscar  Wilde 
rule  is  to  shoot  at  sight.” 

With  this  sally  Wilde  requested  Queensberry  to  leave  the  house. 
Queensberry  refused,  whereupon  Wilde  threatened  to  call  the  police 
and  have  him  put  out. 

“It's  a disgusting  scandal,”  foamed  the  Marquess,  as  he  made  for 
the  hallway. 

“If  it  is  so,”  retorted  Wilde,  “you  are  the  author  of  the  scandal 
and  no  one  else.” 

Then,  following  his  visitors  into  the  hall,  he  pointed  out  the 
Marquess  to  the  servant  who  was  waiting  there  to  show  them  out. 

25 


Oscar  Wilde. 


“This  is  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  the  most  infamous  brute 
in  London.  You  are  never  to  allow  lum  to  enter  my  house  again." 

It  was  now  a fight  to  the  finish,  and  no  punches  were  to  be 
pulled,  to  use  a metaphor  from  the  Marquess’s  favourite  sport, 
Queensberry  had  already  stopped  his  son’s  allowance,  and  he  now 
directed  his  venom  towards  the  boy’s  mother,  his  own  divorced  wife 
whom  he  accused  of  interfering  in  tie  quarrel.  “Your  daughter,” 
he  wrote  to  her  father,  “is  the  person  who  is  supporting  my  son  to 
defy  me.  . . . She  evidendy  wants  to  make  out  that  I want  to  make 
out  a case  against  my  son.  It  is  nothing  of  the  kind.  I have  made 
out  a case  against  Oscar  Wilde  and  I have  to  his  face  accused  him  of 
it.  If  I was  quite  certain  of  the  thing,  I would  shoot  the  fellow  at 
sight,  but  1 can  only  accuse  him  of  posing.  It  now  lies  in  the  hands 
of  the  two  whether  they  will  further  defy  me.  Your  daughter 
appears  now  to  be  encouraging  them,  although  she  can  hardly  intend 
this,  I don’t  believe  Wilde  will  now  dare  defy  me.  He  plainly 
showed  the  white  feadier  the  other  day  when  I tackled  him— 
damned  cur  and  coward  ol  the  Rosebery  type.  As  for  this  so-called 
son  of  mine,  he  is  no  son  of  mine,  and  I will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  him.  He  may  starve  as  far  as  I am  concerned  after  his 
behaviour  to  me.” 

At  the  same  time  Queensberry  wrote  to  Alfred  Douglas,  who 
had  been  sending  his  father  postcards  since  his  letters  were  now 
cemrned  to  him  unopened.  Queensberry  told  him  drat  all  future 
cards  would  go  into  the  fire  unread.  He  then  repeated  the  threat 
of  a thrashing.  "You  reptile,"  concluded  this  paternal  episde. 
“You  are  no  son  of  mine  and  I never  thought  you  were.” 

Douglas  prompdy  replied  that  he  treated  his  father’s  absurd 
threats  with  absolute  indiffercuce  and  that  he  was  making  a point 
of  bring  seen  with  Wilde  in  as  many  public  restaurants  as  possible. 
“If  O.W.  was  to  prosecute  you  in  the  criminal  courts  for  libel,”  he 
continued,  “you  would  get  seven  years’  penal  servitude  for  your 
outrageous  libels.  Much  as  I detest  you,  I am  anxious  to  avoid 
this  for  the  sake  of  the  family;  but  if  you  try  to  assault  me  I shall 
defend  myself  with  a loaded  revolver  which  I always  carry,  and  if  I 
shoot  yon,  or  he  shoots  you,  we  should  be  completely  justified,  as 
we  should  be  acting  in  self-defence  against  a violent  and  dangerous 
26 


Introduction. 


rough,  and  I think  if  you  were  dead  not  many  people  would  miss 
you.” 

Queensberry  was  fully  determined  not  to  let  the  matter  rest,  but 
for  a time  his  prey  eluded  him.  Having  finished  T/ie  Importance 
of  Being  Earnest,  and  the  play  having  gone  into  rehearsal  during  the 
winter,  Wilde  went  abroad  on  a trip  with  Douglas.  But  even 
here  he  was  pursued  by  Queensberry’s  threats  and  gibes. 

At  Algiers  tliey  fell  in  with  the  French  writer  Andr^  Gide. 
They  began  to  discuss  Wilde’s  work,  and  the  Frenchman  asked  the 
dramatist  why  he  failed  to  put  the  best  of  himself  into  his  plays. 

“Would  you  like  to  know  the  great  drama  of  my  life?”  Wilde 
exclaimed.  "It  is  that  I have  put  my  genius  into  my  life — I have 
put  only  my  talent  into  my  works.” 

According  to  Gide,  whose  testimony  on  this  occasion  there  ii 
no  reason  to  doubt,  Wilde  went  on  to  speak  of  returning  to  London, 
as  a well-known  peer  w.as  insulting  him,  challenging  him  and 
taunting  him  with  running  away. 

"But  if  you  go  back  what  will  happen?”  asked  Gide.  “Do  you 
know  the  risk  you  arc  running?" 

“It  is  best  never  to  know,"  answered  Wilde.  “My  friends  are 
extoordinary.  They  beg  me  to  be  careful.  Careful?  But  how 
can  I be  careful?  That  would  be  a backward  step.  I must  go  on 
as  far  as  possible.  I cannot  go  much  further.  Something  is  bound 
to  happen  . . . something  else.” 

At  this  point  Wilde  broke  off  the  conversation,  as  if  he  had  a 
premonition  of  approaching  disaster.  On  the  following  day  he  set 
out  for  England. 

Wilde  reached  London  in  time  for  the  first  performance  of 
The  Importance  of  Being  Earnest,  which  was  presented  by  George 
Alexander  at  the  St.  James's  Theatre  on  14th  February,  1895. 
Queensberry  planned  to  create  a scene  on  the  opening  night 
and  harangue  the  audience,  but  he  unwisely  made  known  his 
plan  beforehand  so  that  it  reached  the  ears  of  the  author,  who  had 
the  theatre  surrounded  by  police.  The  “scarlet  Marquess”  duly 
arrived  with  his  prize-fighting  attendant,  and,  finding  himself 
unable  to  obtain  admission  to  the  theatre  at  any  of  the  entrances, 
prowled  about  for  three  hours,  and  finally  left  “chattering,”  said 

27 


Oscar  Wiltic. 


Wilde,  “like  a monstrous  ape,”  having  first  deposited  at  the 
stage-door  a “grotesque  bouquet  of  vegetables”  addressed  to  the 
object  of  his  enmity.  “This  of  course,”  as  Wilde  told  Douglas, 
“makes  his  conduct  idiotic — robs  it  of  dignity.” 

Queensberry  accordingly  withdrew  to  consider  his  next  step, 
and,  as  the  event  proved,  it  was  pour  mieux  sauter.  Four  days 
later — during  the  afternoon  of  i8th  February — ^he  called  at  the 
Albemarle  Club,  to  which  both  Wilde  and  his  wife  belonged,  and 
left  a card  with  the  hall  porter.  “Give  that  to  Oscar  Wilde,”  he 
said.  On  the  card  he  had  written ; “To  Oscar  Wilde  posing  as  a 
sowdomite,”  the  latter  word  being  thus  misspelled  in  his  fury.  The 
porter  looked  at  the  card,  but  did  not  understand  the  meaning 
of  the  words.  He  thereupon  put  it  in  an  envelope  to  await  the 
arrival  of  its  intended  recipient. 

It  was  not  until  nearly  a fortnight  had  gone  by  that  Wilde 
called  at  the  club  and  was  handed  the  offensive  missive  by  the 
porter.  He  immediately  went  back  to  the  hotel  where  he  was 
staying  and  sent  notes  to  Robert  Ross  and  Alfred  Douglas,  asking 
them  to  come  and  sec  him.  This  is  what  he  wrote  to  Ross ; 

Hotel  Avondale, 

Piccadilly,  London. 

[February  28,  1895 1 


Dearest  Robbie, 

Since  I saw  you  something  has  happened.  Bosie’s  father 
has  left  a card  at  my  dub  with  hideous  words  on  it.  I don’t 
see  anything  now  but  a criminal  prosecution.  My  whole  life 
seems  ruined  by  this  man.  The  tower  of  ivory  is  assailed  by 
the  foul  thing.  On  the  sand  is  my  life  spilt. 

I don’t  know  what  to  do.  It  you  could  come  here  at 
11.30  please  do  so  to-night.  I mar  your  life  by  trespassing 
ever  on  your  love  and  kindness.  I have  asked  Bosie  to  come 
to-morrow. 

Yrs., 

Oscar. 

Ross  came  to  the  hotel  as  requested,  and  the  two  men  discussed 
the  business  into  the  small  hours.  Ross  advised  Wilde  once  again 
to  see  his  solicitor  and  this  time  to  get  him  to  apply  for  a warrant 

28 


Introduction. 


fo;  file  .iiresl  of  his  lormcator.  This  is  iu  fact  what  happened. 
Next  day,  which  was  a Friday,  Lord  Alfred  DqurLis  arrived,  and  all 
three  together  went  to  see  Humphieys.  The  solicitor,  who  recalled 
his  previous  meeting  with  Wilde  ten  months  before,  was  not 
unnaturally  .amazed  when  he  heard  the  details  of  Queensherry’s 
recent  conduct,  He  asked  Wilde  point  blank  on  his  solemn  oath 
whether  there  was  any  truth  in  the  hbel.  Wilde  solemnly  assured 
him  that  he  was  absolutely  innocent  “If  you  are  innocent,”  said 
Humphreys,  “you  should  succeed.”  On  the  strength  of  this  assur- 
ance Humphreys  agreed  to  apply  for  a warrant. 

One  important  question,  which  arose  during  the  momentous 
conference  in  the  solicitor’s  office,  was  the  cost  of  the  contemplated 
proceedings  against  the  obnoxious  Marquess.  At  this  time  Wilde 
was  consider.ably  in  debt,  He  therefore  told  Humphreys  that  he 
had  no  funds  immedi.atcly  tivailable  and  that  he  doubted  whether 
he  could  afford  die  "gigantic  expense”  involved  in  prosecuting 
Queensberry.  At  this  point,  according  to  Wilde,  Lord  Allred 
Douglas  interposed.  Douglas  said  that  his  own  family  “would 
be  only  too  delighted  to  pay  the  necessary  costs,”  tli,it  his  father 
“had  been  an  incubus  to  them  all,”  that  they  “had  oficn  discu.tsed 
the  possibility  of  getting  him  pul  into  a lunatic  asylum  so  as  to 
keep  him  out  of  the  way,"  and  that  he  was  “a  daily  source  of 
annoyance  and  disUess”  to  his  divorced  wife  and  to  everybody  else. 
Writing  from  the  solitude  of  his  prison  cell  in  Reading  eighteen 
months  later,  Wilde  recalled  this  incident  to  his  friend’s  recollec- 
tion : “The  solicitor  closed  at  once,  and  I was  hurried  to  the  Police 
Court.  I had  no  excuse  left  for  not  going.  I was  forced  into  it. 
Of  course,  your  family  don’t  pay  the  costs,  and  when  I am  made 
bankrupt,  it  is  by  your  father  and  for  the  costs  ...  the  meagre 
balance  of  them  . . , some  ,^700.”  Tills  statement  requires 
qualification.  It  is  true  that,  when  a receiving  order  was  eventually 
made  against  Wilde  and  he  was  adjudicated  bankrupt,  it  was  upon 
the  petition  of  Lord  Queensberry,  but  at  the  date  in  question  his 
other  disclosed  liabilities  amounted  to  more  than  four  times  the 
sum  of  Queensberry’s  proved  debt,  and  it  was  clear  that  for  several 
years  past  the  debtor  had  been  living  to  a certain  extent  in  excess 
29 


Oscar  Wilde. 


of  his  income.’  Also,  so  far  as  the  immediate  proceedings  against 
Queensberry  were  concerned,  it  was  Alfred  Douglas  who  came  to 
the  rescue.  The  young  man  scraped  up  all  the  ready  cash  he 
could — about  ,£360— which  he  handed  over  to  his  friend  on  the  day 
of  his  father’s  arrest. 

Another  curious  but  litde  known  fact  which  has  emerged 
is  that,  had  Wdde  not  been  in  such  acute  financial  embarrassment 
at  the  time,  he  might  have  gone  abroad  on  the  very  day  that  he 
called  at  his  club,  and  so  might  have  missed  receiving  the 
Marquess’s  card — at  any  rate  until  the  lapse  of  time  had  either 
rendered  it  innocuous  or  else  dictated  a difierent  course  of  action 
from  that  which  its  recipient  actually  pursued.  During  most  of  the 
preceding  fortnight  he  had  been  staying  at  Avondale  Hotel,  abng 
with  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  a friend  of  the  latter,  both  of  whom 
Wilde  had  regarded  as  his  guests.  The  total  bill  for  the  three  of 
them  for  ten  days  was  ,£140.  As  soon  as  the  other  two  had  left 
the  hotel,  Wilde  had  been  hoping  to  go  over  to  France  on  a fairly 
long  visit,  but  the  hotel  proprietor  refused  to  allow  his  luggage  to 
be  moved  until  the  bill  had  been  paid.  “Had  it  not  been  for  the 
hotel  bill,  I would  have  gone  to  Paris  on  Thursday  morning,"  Wilde 
afterwards  wrote  to  Douglas  in  the  suppressed  part  of  De  Profundis. 
"On  that  fatal  Friday,  instead  of  being  in  Humphreys’s  office 
weakly  consenting  to  my  ruin,  I would  have  been  happy  and  free 
in  France,  away  from  you  and  your  father,  unconscious  of  his 
loathsome  card  and  indifferent  to  your  letters,  if  I had  been  able 
to  leave  the  Avondale  Hotel.  But  the  hotel  people  absolutely 
refused  to  let  me  go.  . , . That  is  what  kept  me  in  London." 
No  doubt  the  bill  was  paid  out  of  the  cash  which  had  been  advanced 
by  Dcaiglas;  but,  if  so,  of  course  it  would  have  been  done  after 
the  crucial  step  of  applying  for  the  warrant  had  been  taken,  and 
it  was  too  late  to  retract, 

Since  Wilde  had  previously  been  in  consultatfon  with  Mr. 
Humphreys,  as  we  have  seen,  about  Lord  Queensberry,  it  was 

s Wilde  admitted  to  the  OHicial  Secciver,  in  the  couise  of  his  public  eramini- 
tion,  that  aa  call;  as  Jul;,  1B93,  hit  iiabilides  exceeded  hit  atseti  Dy  Sec 

Appendix  C.  According  to  Robert  Rots,  the  /yoo  owing  to  Queensberry  was 
entirely  paid  with  4 per  cent,  interest  when  Wilde’s  bankruptcy  was  annulled  in 
igod,  and  Alfred  Douglas  actually  received  a quarter  of  thU  amount  as  aa  asset 
in  his  father’s  estate.  For  Ross’s  statement  and  other  details,  see  TAe  UAnuy  of 
Willim  Aninm  Ctor^,  fr.,  Wilde  end  Wildema,  vol.  D (19x0),  at  p.  70. 

30 


Introduction. 


quite  natural  for  this  solicitor  to  be  consulted  again  on  the  subject. 
It  is  worth  noting,  however,  that  Alfred  Douglas  wished  his  friend 
to  go  to  Sir  George  Lewis.  This  was  the  first  Sir  George  Lewis, 
head  of  the  well-known  firm  of  Lewis  & Lewis,  and  a shrewd 
lawyer  who  had  a great  rcputadon  for  setding  awkward  society 
cases  out  of  Court."  Now  Lewis  knew  a good  deal  more  about  the 
background  of  Wilde’s  private  life  at  this  time  than  Humphreys 
did,  and  it  is  quite  possible  thaq  if  he  had  been  professionally  or 
even  privately  consulted,  he  would  have  taken  a different  view  of 
Wilde’s  protestation  of  innocence  and  would  have  told  his  client  to 
tear  up  the  Marquess’s  card  and  do  nothing  more  about  it.  As 
it  happened,  Sir  George  Lewis  was  instructed  by  Qucensberry 
himself. 

Lord  Qucensberry  was  staying  at  Carter’s  Hotel  in  Albemarle 
Street,  and  it  was  here  that  he  was  arrc.sted  on  Saturday  morning, 
and  March.  “I  have  been  wanting  to  find  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  for 
nine  or  ten  days,”  he  said  to  the  police  officer  when  the  warrant 
was  produced,  “This  thing  has  been  going  on  for  about  two  years.” 
The  Marquess  was  taken  to  Vine  Street  police  station,  where  he  was 
formally  charged,  and  thence  he  was  immediately  conveyed  to  the 
Court  in  Great  Marlborough  Street  and  there  brought  up  before 
the  sitting  magistrate.' 

The  initial  proceedings  at  Great  Marlborough  Street  were  quite 
brief.  The  magistrate  was  the  somewhat  irritable  seventy-four  year 
old  Robert  Milner  Newton,  who  had  presided  at  that  Court  for  the 
past  thirty  years,  and  before  whom  Humphreys  with  his  extenavc 
criminal  practice  had  frequently  appeared  in  the  past.  In  opening 
the  case  against  Qucensberry  the  solicitor  stated  that,  quite  apart 
from  the  libel  complained  of,  WUde  had  been  the  object  of  a most 
cruel  persecution  at  the  hands  of  the  defendant.  Humphreys  went 

6 Sir  George  Henry  Lewis  (1833-1911)  was  knighted  in  1892  supposedly  £01  his 
services  in  connexion  with  the  Parnell  (^mmission.  He  was  created  a baronet  in 
1902. 

7 Qucensberry  told  the  officer  who  arrested  him  that  he  thought  **in  these  cases 
. . . proceedings  were  generally  taken  1^  summons/'  In  cases  of  misdemeanour 
it  was  and  still  is  the  practice  to  issue  a summons,  unless  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  the  defendant  will  not  appear.  It  must  have  been  thought  that 
Queensberry  might  Ignore  a summons.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  most  anxious  to 
justify  what  he  had  written  and  to  prove  furthermore  that  the  libd  was  published 
tor  the  public  benefit.  Since  the  passing  of  the  Act  of  1842  (6  t;  p Viet.  c.  96),  com- 
monlv  known  as  Lord  Campbell's  Act,  the  establishment  01  such  a plea  afforded  a 
complete  defence  to  a char^  of  aimiaal  hhd, 

31 


Oscar  Wiklc. 


on  to  say  that  his  client  had  consulted  him  in  the  matter  ten  months 
previously,  but  that  "in  consequence  of  family  ailairs  Mr.  Oscar 
Wilde  was  very  unwilling  to  take  any  steps  of  a criminal  nature." 
In  addition  to  the  libellous  words  on  the  card,  Humphreys  stated 
that  he  proposed  to  refer  to  other  libels  which  had  been  published 
by  the  defendant  before  iStli  February,  and  when  these  had  been 
investigated  he  would  ask  the  magistrate  to  commit  the  defendant 
for  trial.  Formal  evidence  was  then  given  hy  Sidney  Wright,  hall 
porter  at  the  Albemarle  Club,  as  to  publication  of  the  libel,  and  by 
Inspector  Greet  of  C Division  of  Scodand  Yard,  as  to  the  arrest 
of  the  defendant. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  evidence,  Queensberry’s  solicitor 
jumped  to  his  feet. 

Sir  George  Lewis— Let  me  say  one  word,  sir.  I venture  to 
say  that,  when  the  circumstances  of  this  case  are  more  fully 
known,  that  Lord  Queensberry,  acting  as  he  did  under  feeling 
of  great  indignation,  and 

The  Magistrate  (interrupting) — I cannot  go  into  that  now. 

Sir  George  Lewis— I do  not  wish  this  case  to  be  adjourned 
without  being  known  that  there  is  nothing  against  the  honour 
of  Lord  Queensberry. 

The  Magistrate — You  mean  that  you  have  a perfect  answer 
to  the  charge. 

On  bail  bdng  applied  for,  Humphreys  said  he  would  like  a 
surety.  “Lord  Queensberry  is  not  going  to  run  away,”  answered 
Lewis.  The  magistrate,  however,  agreed  with  Humphreys  and, 
in  adjourning  the  case  for  a week,  directed  the  defendant  to  find 
one  surety  in  the  sum  of  /^soo  and  enter  into  his  own  recognisances 
in  the  sum  of  ,£1000.  This  was  immediately  done.  One  of 
Queensberry’s  friends,  who  was  in  Court  and  gave  his  name  and 
oaupation  as  “Mr.  William  Tyser,  merchant,”  came  forward  as 
the  required  surety. 

During  the  ensuing  week,  in  whiqh  each  side  began  to  marshal 
its  forces,  a number  of  important  developments  took  place.  First 
of  all.  Sir  George  Lewis  declined  to  act  further  in  the  defence 
and  returned  his  instructions  to  Queensberry.  This  may  have  been 
due  to  his  previous  acquaintance  with  the  prosecutor  and  the 
32 


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Letter  written  on  February  zStb^  1895,  from  Oscar  Wilde  to  Robert  Ross  Indicating 
his  intention  (0  prosecute  The  Marquess  of  Queensbeny  for  criminal  libel 
(From  the  original  in  the  William  Andreevs  Clark  Memo]  lal  Libraiy, 

Univenlty  of  CaliTomta,  Los  Angeles) 


Introduction. 


personal  regard  he  had  [or  him.  At  all  events  his  place  was  taken 
by  Mr.  Charles  Russell,  of  Messrs.  Day  St  Russell.®  Russell  realized 
that,  as  matters  then  stood,  it  would  be  far  from  easy  for  Queens- 
berry  to  justify  the  libel.  It  is  true  there  were  lots  of  rumours 
circulating  about  the  seamy  side  of  Wilde’s  private  life,  but  at  this 
date  little  if  anything  definite  was  known  against  him.  So  far 
the  main  plank  of  the  defence  appeared  to  be  copies  of  letters  from 
Wilde  to  Alfred  Douglas  with  which,  as  we  have  seen,  unsuccessful 
attempts  had  been  made  to  blackmail  Wilde.  It  would  be 
invidious  as  well  as  difficult,  since  they  were  addressed  to  the 
defendant’s  son,  to  show  that  these  letters  betrayed  an  immoral 
pose  on  the  part  of  the  writer.  For  the  rest  the  defence  would  be 
thrown  back  upon  Wilde’s  published  writings  where  the  achieve- 
ment of  proving  immoral  tendencies  in  the  absence  of  more  definite 
evidence  would  indeed  be  formidable.  An  able  and  experienced 
leading  counsel  was  obviously  required  for  such  a case  as  this,  and 
Charles  Russell  immediately  turned  to  Mr.  Edward  Carson,  Q.C.® 

According  to  Edward  Marjoribanks’s  biography  of  Carson,  the 
first  visit  paid  by  Russell  to  the  great  Irish  counsel’s  chambers  in 
Dr.  Johnson’s  Buildings  proved  fruitless.  Carson  had  been  at 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  with  Wilde  in  the  seventies,  and  he 
disliked  the  idea  of  appearing  against  a fellow  classmate.  At  all 
events  he  refused  to  accept  the  brief.  Undiscouraged  Russell 
returned  to  the  charge  in  a day  or  two. 

Meanwhile  detectives  employed  on  Queensberry’s  instructions 
were  on  the  track  of  evidence  of  immoral  practices  with  young  men 
carried  on  by  Wilde  over  a considerable  period,  evidence  calculated 
to  go  far  beyond  the  words  of  the  libel  which  simply  alleged 
“posing.”  Carson  still  hesitated,  and  it  was  not  until  he  had  con- 
sulted that  eminent  jurist  and  former  Lord  Chancellor,  Lord 
Halsbury,  that  he  finally  agreed  to  take  the  brief.  “The  great 
thing,”  Halsbury  told  him,  “is  to  arrive  at  justice,  and  it  is  you, 

> Hoa.  Chirles  Russell  (1863-1918),  second  son  ot  Lord  Russell  of  Killowen, 
C.J.  His  firm,  which  he  founded  «nd  of  which  he  was  a partner,  later  became 
known  as  Charles  Rubsell  & Co  He  was  created  a baronet  in  1976. 

*'  Edward  Herny  Carson  (1854-1935),  later  Lord  Carson.  On  his  life  see  par- 
ticularly Edward  MarjOribanks,  ufe  of  Lord  Carton,  Vol.  I (1932).  Russell  is  said 
to  have  briefed  Carson  on  the  advice  o£  his  father,  Lord  Russell  of  Killowen,  who 
was  then  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  England. 

c 33 


Oscar  Wilde. 


I believe,  who  can  best  do  ii.”  In  fact  the  dossier  against  Wilde 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  completed  until  some  time  later,  but 
whatever  it  was  that  Carson  learned  during  his  second  consultation 
with  Russell,  it  was  sufficient  in  his  own  mind  to  justify  his  appear- 
ance at  the  adjourned  heating  before  the  Great  Marlborough  Street 
magistrate  on  9th  March.'  He  had  with  him,  as  junior  counsel, 
Charles  Gill,  a hard-working  as  well  as  hard-headed  Ulsterman, 
who  probably  possessed  the  largest  practice  of  any  man  in  those 
days  at  the  criminal  bar.^ 

The  launching  of  such  a libel  prosecution  by  a successful  and 
popular  dramatist  against  a well-known  peer  and  sporting  character 
was  bound  to  create  widespread  public  interest.  It  was  hardly  sur- 
prising that  the  small  Court  in  Great  Marlborough  Street  should 
have  been  quite  packed  with  inquisitive  spectators  at  the  adjourned 
hearing.  When  the  case  was  called  shortly  after  11.30  on  the 
morning  of  gth  March,  there  was  hardly  even  standing  room,  and 
numbers  of  prominent  people,  who  had  endeavoured  to  obtain 
seats  beside  die  magistrate  on  the  Bench,  were  disappointed,  Wilde, 
who  had  driven  up  to  the  Court  in  a carriage  and  pair  and  was 
accompanied  by  the  defendant’s  two  sons.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
and  Lord  Douglas  of  H.awick,  had  consider.able  difficulty  in 
obtaining  seats;  while  Humphreys,  who  again  appeared  for  Wilde, 
was  obliged  to  apply  to  the  magistrate  before  accommodation  could 
be  found  for  his  clerk.  As  soon  as  his  name  was  called,  Queensberry 
entered  the  dock,  but  the  magistrate  ordered  a chair  to  be  placed 
for  his  convenience  outside  the  rails,  and  he  was  later  allowed  to 
sit  behind  his  counsel.  On  looking  round  the  magistrate  then 


1 It  is  said  that  at  this  coosuItatioQ  Quson  had  been  strongly  inclined  to  advise 
his  client  to  plead  guilty,  but  that  he  changed  his  mind  at  the  last  ffloment  before 
leaving  his  chambers  for  Great  Marlborough  Street  on  being  informed  that 
Russell  had  obtained,  or  was  about  to  obtam,  a statement  incriminating  Wilde 
from  a youth  named  Charles  Parker.  Parker,  who  was  to  be  the  first  CroWn 
witness  called  in  the  subsequent  proceedings  against  Wilde,  was  then  serving  as  a 
gunner  in  the  Royal  Artiilery»  and  Ru^ell  had  considerable  difficulty  in  persuading 
him  to  come  forward,  since  of  course  the  solicitor  was  not  instructed  by  the  Crown 
and  consequently  could  not  confer  immunity  on  a witness  whose  testimony,  being 
that  of  an  accomplice,  might  otherwise  lead  to  his  own  prosecution.  Russell  is 
believed  to  have  been  put  in  touch  widi  Parker  by  a source  in  the  Savoy  Hotel 
where,  as  Parker  was  later  to  admit,  bdcccndcs  had  taken  place  between  Wilde 
and  himself.  See  Parker’s  evidence  below,  pp.  191-ij^. 

2 Charles  Frederick  Gill  (i8^i-'i933)  was  Senior  Counsel  to  the  Treasury  at  the 
Old  Bailey  and  was  also  Recorder  of  Chichester.  He  was  knighted  in  ipar. 

34 


Introduction . 


recognized  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  directed  him  to  leave  the 
Court  at  once.  Lord  Alfred  accordingly  withdrew. 

Formal  evidence  not  given  at  the  first  hearing  was  now  taken. 
This  time  the  prosecutor  himself  being  in  the  box.  Wilde's 
examination,  however,  proceeded  slowly,  since  it  was  necessary, 
for  the  purpose  of  the  depositions,  that  his  testimony  should  he 
recorded  by  the  clerk  of  the  Court  in  long-hand.  Wilde  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  show  off,  a temptation  which  was  later  to 
prove  damaging  when  he  was  in  the  box  at  the  Old  Bailey. 
Almost  his  very  first  answer  called  down  a mild  reproof  from  the 
Bench. 

Mr.  Humphreys — Are  you  a dramatist  and  author? 

Witness— I believe  I am  well  known  in  that  capacity. 

Magistrate — Only  answer  the  questions,  please. 

Wilde  then  went  on  to  describe  liis  acquaintance  with  various 
members  of  the  Queensberry  family,  but  he  had  not  got  very  far 
when  his  solicitor  found  himself  in  a quandary.  Humphreys,  as 
he  had  indicated  at  the  previous  hearing,  wished  to  introduce  the 
other  libels  contained  in  letters  from  the  defendant  to  his  son,  hut 
he  was  unwilling  to  read  out  the  full  text  of  these  letters  on  account 
of  the  references  to  Lord  Rosebery  and  other  “exalted  personages," 
as  he  did  not  want  their  names  to  transpire.  Therefore,  when  he 
began  to  question  his  wimess  on  the  letter  dated  ist  April,  1894, 
which  he  had  been  shown  by  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  the  magistrate 
intervened  with  the  suggestion  that  he  should  not  examine  on  these 
letters.  “It  would  be  opening  a door  to  something  that  ought  not 
to  take  place  in  this  Court,”  Mr.  Newton  added.  “At  the  trial  you 
can  say  that  you  have  other  libels  against  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  and 
mention  dates.”  In  any  event  he  should  surely  give  the  defendant 
notice  of  his  intention  to  produce  these  other  libels. 

At  this  stage  Carson  intervened  to  say  he  hoped  the  letters  would 
be  put  in,  his  point  being  that  Lord  Queensberry  was  acting  in 
the  interest  of  his  son.  (‘1  sec  your  point  clearly,”  said  the 
magistrate).  “But,”  continued  Carson,  “unless  the  documents  arc 
produced  they  cannot  be  attached  to  the  depositions.”  He  referred 
particularly  to  the  letter  of  ist  April,  on  which  Humphreys  was 
endeavouring  to  examine  Wilde,  and  he  hinted  that,  when  the  time 
came  to  cross-examine,  he  “would  go  into  the  question  of  Lord 
35 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Queensberry  giving  advice  to  his  son.”  Said  Humphreys:  “You 
don’t  know  that  the  letter  contains  only  advice  to  his  son.”  "Don't 
I?”  replied  Carson.  “I  happen  to  have  a copy  of  it.” 

Humphreys  now  declared  that  he  had  intended  to  produce  all 
the  letters  for  the  inspection  of  the  magistrate  and  the  defendant’s 
counsel,  but  that  they  should,  not  be  read  in  public.  “It  would  not 
be  right,”  he  said,  “that  the  names  mentioned  should  be  called  in 
question  in  matters  of  this  kind.”  Carson,  however,  repeated  his 
objecdon  to  examination  on  these  letters  without  full  disclosure 
of  their  contents — “either  drop  them  out  altogether  or  put  them 
in” — and  in  the  face  of  this  opposition  Humphreys  adopted  the 
magistrate’s  suggestion  and  passed  on  to  other  matters.  The 
examination  concluded  with  formal  evidence  of  Wilde’s  receipt  of 
the  libellous  card  and  his  application  through  his  solicitors  for  a 
warrant  for  Queensberry’s  arrest. 

On  Carson's  rising  to  cross-examine,  some  legal  argument  took 
place  on  the  scope  of  his  proposed  questions.  Carson  was  of 
course  entitled  to  cross-examine,  but  not  to  tlic  truth  of  the  libel, ' 
since  there  was  no  such  issue  before  the  Court.  Whar  he  proposed 
to  show  was  why  the  defendant  sent  the  letters — in  other  words, 
that  “Lord  Queensberry  thought  it  was  well  for  the  morality  of  his 
son  to  put  a stop  to  the  relations  between  the  parties.”  However, 
the  magistrate  ruled  that  this  would  amount  to  quasi-justification 
and  was  accordingly  not  admissible  then.  Carson  thereupon 
resumed  his  seat. 

The  case  for  the  prosecution  thus  being  closed,  Wilde’s  deposi- 
tions were  read  over  to  him  by  the  clerk  of  the  Court.  He  made 
one  slight  correction  and  was  about  to  affix  his  signature  when  he 
suddenly  asked  to  have  a certain  portion  read  a second  time.  “If 
you  would  just  attend,”  excised  the  magistrate  testily,  “this 
would  not  have  happened.”  However,  the  privilege  was  accorded, 
and  after  a whisper  from  the  usher,  “initials  will  do,”  in  reply  to 
whether  he  should  sign  in  full,  the  prosecutor  without  removing 
his  gloves  took  up  a quill  pen  and  appended  his  initials  to  the 
depositions. 

The  magistrate  then  turned  to  the  prisoner  and  asked  him 
whether,  having  heard  the  charge,  he  had  anything  to  say  in 
answer  to  it. 

36 


Introduction. 


"I  have  simply,  your  worship,  to  say  this,”  replied  the  defendant, 
who  appeared  a diminutive  figure  as  he  stood  up  behind  his  tall 
counsel.  “ I wrote  that  card  simply  with  the  intention  of  bringing 
matters  to  a head,  having  been  unable  to  meet  Mr,  Wilde  other- 
wise, and  to  save  my  son,  and  1 abide  by  what  I wrote.” 

“Then,”  said  the  magistrate,  “you  are  committed  for  trial  and 
the  same  bail  will  be  allowed  you  as  before.” 


V 

The  next  Old  Bailey  sessions  were  due  to  open  in  less  than  three 
weeks  from  the  date  of  Queensberry’s  committal,  so  that  neither 
side  had  much  time  to  lose  before  the  trial.  For  the  role  of  leading 
counsel  for  the  prosecution,  Humphreys  determined  to  cast  one 
who  was  at  the  top  of  his  profession  and  would  in  every  way  be 
a match  for  Carson.  Accordingly,  within  the  next  few  days,  the 
solicitor  went  along  to  the  Temple  and  offered  the  brief  to  Sir 
Edward  Clarke,  Q.C.  Then  in  his  early  fifties,  Clarke  was 
a veritable  Titan  at  the  Bar,  a former  Law  Officer  of  the  Crown  and 
a man  of  the  highest  personal  integrity  as  well  as  great  forensic 
ability.  His  conduct  of  the  defence  in  two  celebrated  murder  trials 
—the  Penge  case  and  the  trial  of  Mrs.  Bartlett— had  long  since 
established  him  in  the  foremost  rank  of  English  advocates,  while 
his  efforts  on  behalf  of  Sir  William  Gordon-Cumming  in  the 
more  recent  “Baccarat  case,”  when  he  examined  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  had  shown  unexampled  courage  and  fearlessness  in  his 
client’s  interest  when  battling  against  strong  Court  and  society 
prejudices,* 

Unlike  Sir  Frank  Lockwood,  the  Solicitof-General,  who  had 
enjoyed  some  measure  of  Wilde’s  friendship  and  hospitality  and 
was  ultimately  to  appear  as  his  leading  prosecutor  in  the  last  trial, 
Clarke  had  never  met  Wilde  before  he  was  instructed  in  this  case. 
All  he  knew  about  him  was  what  was  common  knowledge  among 
theatregoers,  namely,  that  he  was  a brilliant  playwright  who  had 

^ 1 Sir  Edward  Clarice  (1841-1931).  On  his  life  see  his  memoirs,  The  Story  of  My 
Ufe  (1918),  and  Derek  Walker-SimtK  and  Edward  Clarke,  Ufe  of  Sir  Edward 
CtarJfe  (1939).  See  also  Trial  of  Adelaide  Bartlett  and  The  Baccarat  Case,  " Notable 
British  Trials " Series. 


37 


Oscar  Wilde. 


two  successes  running  at  the  same  time  in  the  West  End.  Never- 
theless the  case  was  not  one  which  on  the  face  of  it  appealed  to 
him.  Indeed  he  hesitated  before  accepting  the  brief,  just  as  Carson 
had  done  with  his,  though  for  a different  reason.  He  asked  the 
solicitor  if  he  might  first  sec  his  prospective  client. 

Next  day  Humphreys  brought  Wilde  to  Clarke’s  chambers,  and 
after  some  conversation  a remarkable  scene  took  place  between 
them.  "I  can  only  accept  this  brief,  Mr.  Wilde,”  said 
Clarke,  "if  you  can  assure  me  on  your  honour  as  an 
English  gentleman  that  there  is  not  and  never  has  been 
any  foundation  for  the  charges  that  are  made  against  you.”  The 
fact,  apparendy  overlooked  by  Clarke  in  the  gravity  of  the  moment^ 
diat  he  was  an  Irishman,  did  not  deter  Wdde  from  standing  up  and 
solemnly  declaring  on  his  honour  that  the  charges  were  "absolutely 
false  and  groundless.”  It  should  perhaps  be  pointed  out  here 
that,  since  his  client  was  technically  the  prosecutor  in  this  case, 
Clarke  was  justified  in  putting  this  question  to  him.  Of  course, 
had  Wilde  been  facing  a criminal  charge  himself  at  this  stage, 
Clarke  would  obviously  not  have  done  so,  it  being  contrary  to 
professional  etiquette  and  the  tradition  of  the  Bar  for  counsel  to 
make  his  client’s  declaration  of  his  innocence  a condition  of  defend- 
ing him. 

It  was  on  the  strength  of  this  assurance,  so  solemnly  and 
emphatically  given,  that  Clarke  consented  to  appear  against 
Queensberry.  As  events  were  to  show,  the  further  the  case  pro- 
ceeded, the  less  Clarke  relished  it.  In  after  years  he  preferred  to 
forget  about  it,  and  it  is  significant  that  there  is  no  mention  of  it 
in  his  published  memoirs.  He  did,  however,  place  on  record  his 
personal  attitude  in  the  case.  From  the  notes  discovered  among 
his  papers  by  his  biographers  after  his  death,  it  is  clear  that  he 
simply  did  what  he  conceived  to  be  his  duty  towards  the  client 
who  must  have  assuredly  been  one  of  the  most  embarrassing  he 
had  to  represent  in  the  whole  course  of  his  career.*  “I  need  hardly 

_ 3 1 am  indebted  to  Sir  Edward  Clarke's  grandson,  Mr.  Edward  Clarke,  for 
his  kindness  in  putting  this  material  at  my  disposal,  and  I have  made  full  use  of 
it  in  these  pages.  It  appears  that  Sir  Edward  Clarke  prepared  it  with  a view  to  its 
jnclusbn  in  The  pory  oj  My  Uje  (1918),  but  on  second  thoughts  decided  to  omit 
it  from  his  memoirs— ^ubtless  out  of  consideration  for  those  readers  who,  nurtured 
like  himself  in  Victorian  principles  propriety,  would  have  been  shocks  by  the 
discussion  of  any  case  involving  charges  <n  indecency. 


Introduction, 


say,”  he  wrote,  ‘‘I  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  institution  ol  tltat 
prosecution.”  But  once  briefed,  the  great  leader  turned  all  his 
attention  and  energies  into  the  case,  along  with  the  two  junior 
counsel  instructed  with  him.  These  were  Willie  Mathews,  a most 
experienced  criminal  practitioner,  who  had  appeared  with  Clarke 
in  many  previous  cases,**  and  Travers  Humphreys,  then  a young 
barrister  who  was  already  making  his  way  at  the  English  Bar.^ 
Meanwhile,  in  the  nearby  solicitors’  offices  of  Day  & Russell,  in 
Norfolk  Street,  the  defence  was  busily  building  up  a formidable 
case  against  Wilde.  For  some  time  past  Queensberry  had  been 
employing  private  detectives  to  collect  discreditable  evidence  of 
the  prosecutor’s  private  life,  hitherto  with  little  success.  It  is  a 
curious  fact,  which  does  not  seem  to  be  generally  Icnown,  that  the 
most  damning  clues  were  provided  by  an  entirely  voluntary  agent 
who  received  no  fee  for  his  services.  This  was  the  actor  Charles 
Brookfield,  who  had  conceived  a violent  Imtred  of  Wilde,  although 
at  this  time  he  actoally  had  a part  in  Wilde’s  piny,  An  Ideal 
Husband,  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre.  This  appears  all  tlie  more 
surprising  since  Brookfield  was  a man  of  cultured  upbringing  and 
he  had  benefited  in  various  ways  from  Wilde’s  tlicatrical  successes. 
The  son  of  a former  royal  chaplain  and  a lady-in-waiting  to  Queen 
Victoria — students  of  Thackeray  will  remember  the  dramatic  part 
the  elder  Brookfields  played  in  that  writer’s  life — Charles  Brookfield 
had  begun  to  read  for  the  Bar  on  leaving  Cambridge,  but  he  soon 
deserted  the  Temple  for  the  stage,  becoming  associated  with  the 
Haymarket  Theatre  at  the  time  the  Bancrofts  first  took  over 
the  management  of  it.  He  was  on  the  whole  a likeable  man.  In 
some  ways  more  likeable  than  Wilde,  he  had  an  amusing  sense  of 
humour,  and  he  wrote  a number  of  plays  and  short  stories  which, 
though  greatly  inferior  to  Wilde’s  productions,  had  attracted  a 
certain  amount  of  passing  attention.  It  seems  likely  that  Brookfield 
bemme  jealous  of  Wilde’s  success.  At  all  events  he  parodied  Lady 
Windermere’s  Fan  in  a somewhat  spiteful  piece  entitled  The  Poet 


S Charles  Willie  Mathews  (1850-1920),  later  for  raany  yeais  Ducaor  ot  Public 
Prosecutions.  He  was  luughted  in  1907  and  created  a baronet  in  1017. 

1867),  son  of  C.  0.  Humphteys,  solidtor,  was  called 
te  the  bar  at  tlw  Inner  T^taple  m rSSg.  He  wai  lucccMtvdy  Junior  and  Senior 
Treasury  Counsel  at  the  Old  Bailey,  and  was  appointed  judge  of  the  King's  Bench 
Division  of  the  High  Court  in  1928.  He  was  Jinighted  in  1925  and  created  a Privy 
Counallor  in  1946,  See  his  interesting  booh  of  reminiscences.  Crimmal  Dm 
(1946) 

39 


Oscar  Wilde. 


and  the  Puppets.  The  good-natured  tolerance  with  which  Wilde 
regarded  this  effort  only  served  to  fan  the  flames  of  Brookfield's 
hatred.  But  it  did  not  prevent  him  from  accepting  a part  in  An 
Ideal  Husband.  This  is  how  he  reconciled  his  action  with  his 
conscience.  “I  told  him,”  said  Brookfield,  “that  as  I did  not  want 
to  learn  many  of  his  lines  I would  take  the  smallest  part,  and  I 
took  the  valet.” 

The  subject  of  Oscar  WUde  had  by  tjtis  time  developed  into  a 
positive  obsession  with  Brookfield.*  Consequently,  when  the 
Queensberry  storm  broke,  he  went  round  London  getting  up 
opposition  wherever  he  could  against  the  unfortunate  dramatist. 
He  induced  the  commissionaire  at  the  Haymarket  to  supply  the 
defence  with  the  names  and  addresses  of  Wood  and  the  other  black- 
mailers who,  as  we  have  seen,  had  acquired  various  letters  fiom 
Wilde  to  Douglas  and  had  sent  a copy  of  one  of  them  to  Beerbohm 
Tree,  the  theatre's  manager.  He  also  put  Inspector  Littlechild, 
one  of  the  detectives  employed  by  Queensberry,  in  toucli  with  a 
prostitute  whom  he  knew  to  possess  informadon  about  Wilde  and 
his  disreputable  male  associates.  This  woman,  who  appeared  to  be 
far  from  prosperous,  frankly  attributed  the  falling  off  in  her  business 
to  the  unfair  competition  promoted  by  Osc.ar  Wilde  and  his  like. 
Pressed  for  further  details  the  prostitute  told  the  detective  lhal  he 
only  had  to  visit  the  rooms  of  a man  named  Taylor  in  a certain 
house  in  Chelsea  and  he  would  find  all  the  evidence  he  needed. 
The  detective  immediately  hastened  to  No.  3 Chapel  Street, 
the  address  that  had  been  given  him,  and  pushing  past  the  care- 
taker, who  vainly  tried  to  prevent  his  entrance,  he  found  a kind 
of  post-box,  which  contained  the  names  and  addresses  of  numbers 

^ Prnnk  Harris  was  the  first  of  Wilde's  friends  to  record  in  detail,  in  the 
original  edition  of  his  O/cor  Wilder  Hts  Life  and  his  Cottfesshns,  published  in  New 
York  in  1916,  how  Brookfield  "constituted  himself  private  prosccutoi  iit  ihif  case 
and  raked  Piccadilly  to  find  witnesses  a^inst  Oscar  Wilde."  (Vol.  I,  at  p.  232.) 
This  passage  is  omitted  from  the  Eag&h  edition  (192JB)  of  this  work.  Vincent 
O'SulPivan,  another  friend  of  Wilde’s,  particularly  io  his  last  years,  also  refers  to 
Brookfield  in  this  connexion  in  his  Asp^ects  of  Wilde  ^i936)>  ns  also  does  Stuart  Mason 
in  his  BihUo^phy  of  Oscar  Wilde  (1914).  According  to  Mason  (at  p.  392),  after 
Wilde's  conviction  Brooltficld  and  some  mends  entertained  Queensberry  to  dinner 
in  celebration  of  the  event.  These  details  are  con&med  by  the  journalist  who  intro- 
duced Brookfield  to  Queensberry’s  solicitor.  See  John  Boon,  Victorians,  Edwardians, 
Georgians,  VoU  I (1928),  at  p.  199,  et  seq.  Brookfield  was  later  appointed  to  the 
post  of  Censor  of  plays  in  me  Lord  Cluimberlam's  Office,  possibly  lu  recognition 
of  lus  public  spirited  behaviour  in  hide’s  case,  although  he  had  himself  written 
one  of  the  "riskiest"  plays  of  the  period.  He  died  in  T9T3. 

40 


Introduction. 


of  young  male  homosexuals,  mosdy  in  the  humbler  walks  ol  life, 
as  well  as  other  documents  hnldng  them  with  Wilde.  These  damn- 
ing particuhirs  were  forwarded  to  the  defendant’s  solieitors,  who 
now  proceeded  to  amend  their  client’s  plea  of  justificadon  accord- 
ingly. 

For  the  time  being,  Wilde,  who  had  gone  off  with  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  to  the  south  of  France  to  enjoy  a short  breathing  space 
before  die  trial,  remained  ignorant  of  how  the  shades  of  the  prison 
house  were  beginning  to  close  round  him.  Nor  when  the  full 
extent  of  Broolcfield’s  malevolence  was  brought  home  to  him 
some  years  later  by  his  friend  Robert  Ross,  after  he  had  come 
out  of  prison,  did  he  feel  the  least  vindictive.  All  he  said  was, 
“How  absurd  of  Brookfield  I” 

According  to  Marjoribanks’s  Life  of  Lord  Carson,  an  incident 
now  occurred  which  caused  perhaps  the  greatest  sensation  abroad 
of  the  whole  case  and  which,  in  that  it  involved  a name  far  more 
illustrious  than  Wilde's,  was  destined  at  a later  stage  to  result  in  a 
critical  misfortune  for  the  prosecutor  of  Lord  Queensberry.  As  a 
further  necessary  preliminary  to  his  appearance  in  the  dock  at  the 
Old  Bailey,  criminal  procedure  then  required  the  charge  which 
had  been  brought  against  the  Marquess  to  be  considered  by  a grand 
jury,  who  might  return  a “true  bill”  or  not,  as  they  thought 
warranted  by  the  evidence  for  the  prosecution.  If  the  “bill”  was 
“thrown  out,”  of  course  the  prosecution  automatically  lap.sed. 
Grand  jurors  were  usually  well-to-do  men  with  substantial  property 
qualifications.  On  this  occasion  a distinguished  French  journalist, 
who  had  lived  in  England  for  many  years,  was  empanelled  in 
error.  He  went  down  to  the  Old  Bailey  in  order  to  excuse  him- 
self from  attendance  on  the  ground  of  his  French  citizenship; 
but,  when  he  found  that  Oscar  Wilde’s  prosecution  of  Lord 
Queensberry  for  criminal  libel  was  among  the  bills  before  the  jury, 
he  decided  to  remain  and  say  nothing  about  the  mistake  which 
had  brought  him  there.  In  due  course  a true  bill  was  returned  on 
the  strength  of  evidence  which  included,  inter  alia,  Queensberry’s 
insulting  letters  to  his  son,  which  Wilde’s  solicitor  had  referred  to 
in  the  Police  Court  proceedings  but  had  not  read,  but  which  men- 
tioned the  name  of  Lord  Rosebery,  against  whom,  it  will  be  remem- 
41 


Oscar  Wililc. 


bered,  the  defendant  had  conceived  almost  as  violent  an  antipathy 
as  he  had  expressed  against  Wilde. 

A grand  jury’s  deliberations  invariably  took  place  in  private 
and  its  findings  were  never  reported  in  the  newspapers.  The 
French  press,  however,  fully  acquainted  its  readers  with  what 
had  happened  on  this  occasion,  and  the  information  thus  imparted 
was  not  only  spread  throughout  the  Continent  but  was  openly  dis- 
cussed in  London  bars  and  clubs.  Brookfield  and  his  friends  were 
incited  to  fresh  eflorts  in  the  cause  of  public  morality,  and  all  were 
determined  that  the  fact  that  the  Prime  Minister's  name  had  been 
mentioned  in  connexion  with  the  case  was  all  the  stronger  reason 
that  nothing  should  be  hushed  up.  Hostile  feeling  .about  Wilde 
was  increasing,  and  it  seems  to  have  reached  as  far  as  the  south 
of  France,  since  it  is  stated  on  reliable  authority  that  Wilde  and 
Douglas  were  refused  admission  by  the  manager  of  one  hotel  in 
Monaco.® 

Writing  from  prison  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  in  the  suppressed 
portion  of  De  ProfundU,  Wilde  made  the  following  comments  on 
this  interlude: — 

“The  warrant  once  granted  your  will,  of  course,  directed 
everything.  At  a time  when  I should  have  been  in  London 
taking  wise  counsel  and  calmly  considering  the  hideous  trap 
in  which  I had  allowed  myself  to  be  caught— the  booby  trap, 
as  your  father  calls  it  to  the  present  day— you  insisted  on  my 
taking  you  to  Monte  Carlo,  of  all  revolting  places  on  God's 
earth,  that  all  day  and  all  night  as  well  you  might  gamble  as 
long  as  the  casino  remain^  open.  As  for  me^accarat 
having  no  charms  for  me— I was  left  alone  outside  by  myself. 
You  refused  to  discuss  even  for  five  minutes  the  position  to 
which  you  and  your  father  had  brought  me.  On  our  return 
to  London  those  of  my  friends  who  really  desired  my  welfare 
irnplored  me  to  retire  abroad,  and  not  to  face  an  impossible 
trial.  You  imparted  mean  motives  to  them  for  giving  such 
advice  and  cowardice  to  me  for  listening  to  it.  You  forced 
me  to  stay  to  brazen  it  out,  if  possible,  in  the  box  by  absurd 
and  silly  perjuries.  At  the  end,  of  course,  I was  arrested, 
and  your  father  became  die  hero  of  the  hour.’’ 


® See  Robert  H.  Sherard,  Oscar  Wilde  t The  Story  of  an  Unhappy  Vmndship 
(190a),  at  p.  135. 

42 


Introduction. 


The  piecise  circumstances  o£  their  visit  lo  Monte  Carlo  together 
are  obscure,  but  in  any  event  these  circumstances  are  of  relatively 
minor  importance.  What  happened  when  the  two  men  returned  t<i 
London  is  fairly  clear.  They  arrived  about  a week  before  the  Old 
Bailey  proceedings  were  due  to  begin.  A consultation  was  imme- 
diately held  in  Clarke's  chambers,  at  which  Wilde  and  Douglas  were 
both  present  in  addition  to  solicitor  and  counsel;  and  the  oppor- 
tunity was  taken  of  going  through  all  the  particulars  of  Queens- 
berry’s  amended  plea  of  justification.’  In  spite  of  all  this  new 
evidence  for  the  defence,  the  truth  of  which  he  persisted  in  deny- 
mg  but  which  must  have  come  as  an  unpleasant  surprise  to  him, 
Wilde  remained  outwardly  unmoved.  Thanks  to  the  activities  of 
Brookfield  and  the  rest  of  Queensberry’s  eager  band  of  assistants, 
much  of  this  evidence  was  already  common  knowledge  in  London, 
with  the  result  that  during  the  next  few  days  Wilde  was  besought 
by  his  friends  on  all  sides  to  leave  the  country.  But  to  all  their 
entreaties  he  turned  a deaf  car,  and  in  this  course  he  needed  no 
prompting  from  Douglas.  A perverse  and  foolish  sense  of 
obstinacy,  amounting  indeed  to  bravado,  induced  him  to  .stay  at 
all  costs  to  himself  and  see  the  thing  through.  This  is  amply 
confirmed  by  the  testimony  of  a number  of  independent  witnesses, 

For  instance,  two  nights  before  the  trial  opened  he  took  his 
wife  and  Douglas  to  a box  ttt  the  St.  James’s  Theatre  where  The 
Importance  of  Being  Earnest  was  playing  to  crowded  houses.  In 
the  interval  between  the  acts  he  went  backstage  to  see  George 
Alexander,  the  theatre’s  manager,  who  was  also  acting  a leading 
part  in  the  play.  Alexander  reproached  him  for  coming  to  the 
theatre  at  such  a time,  as  people  would  be  sure  to  consider  it  “in 
bad  taste.”  Wilde  laughingly  replied  that  he  might  as  well  accuse 
every  member  of  the  audience  of  bad  taste  in  coming  to  see  the 
play.  "I  would  consider  it  in  bad  taste,”  he  added,  “if  they  went 
to  see  anyone  else’s  play,” 

Alexander  then  preferred  this  piece  of  advice : “Why  don’t  you 
withdraw  from  this  case  and  go  abroad?” 

“Everyone  wants  me  to  go  abroad,”  replied  Oscar  in  the  same 
jesting  mood.  “I  have  just  been  abroad,  and  now  I have  come 
home  again.  One  can’t  keep  on  going  abroad,  unless  one  is  a 

For  the  text  of  this  document,  see  below,  Appendix  A. 

43 


Oscar  Wilde. 


miadopary,  or,  what  comes  to  the  same  thing,  a commercial 
traveller." 

About  this  time,  possibly  earlier  that  same  day,  Wilde  had 
received  similar  advice  from  Prank  Harris,  formerly  editor  of  The 
PorttiigMy  Review,  to  which  Wilde  had  been  a contributor.*  He 
asked  Harris  if  he  would  be  a witness  for  him  at  the  trial  and 
testify  that  in  his  opinion  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray,  one  of  the 
works  which  had  been  singled  out  for  attack  by  Queensberry  in 
his  plea  of  justification,  was  a moral  story.  Harris  declined, 
urging  his  friend  to  flee,  but  on  being  implored  to  reconsider  his 
decision  he  asked  Wilde  to  join  him  next  day  at  the  Cafd  Royal 
where  he  had  a luncheon  engagement  with  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw. 
The  story  of  this  celebrated  encounter  has  been  told  by  Harris,  Shaw 
and  Douglas  (who  was  also  present),  and  though  they  differ  as  to 
minor  details  they  are  agreed  on  the  main  outlines. 

"First  of  all,”  argued  Harris,  "we  start  with  the  assumption 
that  you  are  going  to  lose  the  case  against  Queensberry.  You 
don’t  realize  what  is  going  to  happen  to  you.  It  is  not  going  to  he 
a matter  of  clever  talk  about  your  books.  They  are  going  to  bring 
up  a string  of  witnesses  that  will  put  art  and  literature  out  of  the 
question.  Clarke  will  throw  up  his  brief.  . . . You  should  go 
abroad,  and,  as  ace  of  ’rumps,  you  should  take  your  wife  with  you 
Now  for  the  excuse.  I would  sit  down  and  write  such  a letter  as 
you  alone  can  write  to  The  Times.  You  should  set  forth  how 
you  have  been  insulted  by  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry  and  how 
you  went  naturally  to  the  Courts  for  a remedy,  but  you  found  out 
very  soon  that  this  was  a mistake.  No  jury  would  give  a verdict 
against  a father,  however  mistaken  he  might  be.  The  only'  thing 
for  yon  to  do  therefore  is  to  go  abroad,  and  leave  the  whole  ring, 
with  its  gloves  and  ropes,  its  sponges  and  pails  to  Lord  Queensberfy. 
You  are  a maker  of  beautiful  things,  you  should  say,  and  not  a 

^ Frank  Harris  (x856'i^3i)s  jouiaallst  and  adventurer.  His  first  editcM’ship  was 
that  of  the  London  Epentng  Netvs,  which  he  obtained  at  the  age  of  28.  His  Ufe 
and  ConfesMtti  of  Oscar  Wildc,  though  hi^ly  coloured  and  often  untrustwoithy 
, as  re^rds  details,  presents  on  i^e  whole  a not  unfaithful  portrait  of  its  subject. 
The  best  account  of  Harris  is  by  Hugh  King.'unill  in  his  brilliant  study  Fran^ 
flams  (1933);  ace  also  the  “authorized"  biography  by  the  American  writers  A.  I. 
Tobin  and  Elmer  Gertz  (1931),  and  ^rris’s  own  privately  printed  ^fy  Life  and 
Loees,  which  has  recently  oeeti  published  in  a drastically  eimurgated  edition  in 
England  by  the  late  Mr.  Grant  Richards  under  the  title  Fratt^  Harris:  His  Ufe  and 
Aamitssres  (1947). 


Introduction. 


fighter,  whereas  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry  takes  joy  only  in 
fighting.  You  should  refuse  to  fight  with  a father  under  these 
circumstances,  . . . But  don’t  stay  here  clutching  at  straws  like 
testimonials  to  Dorian  Gray.  ...  I know  what  is  going  to  happen. 
...  I know  what  evidence  they  have  got.  You  must  go.” 

Shaw,  when  appealed  to,  agreed  with  the  force  of  this  argument, 
and  like  Harris  also  he  was  surprised  at  the  attitude  of  sulky 
intransigeance  which  it  provoked  on  the  part  of  the  other  two. 
"Your  telling  him  to  run  away  shows  that  you  are  no  friend  of 
Oscar’s,”  said  Douglas,  getting  up  from  the  table.  “It  is  not 
friendly  of  you,  Frank,”  added  Wilde  as  he  followed  the  younger 
man  out  of  the  restaurant. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  line  of  conduct  was  reckless  in 
the  extreme.  Although  neither  Harris  nor  Shaw  was  aware  of  it 
at  the  time,  both  Wilde  and  Douglas  had  already  seen  Queensberry's 
amended  plea  of  justification,  so  that  they  must  have  realized  that 
the  tactics,  which  the  defendant  was  likely  to  employ  at  the  trial, 
would  take  the  Court  far  beyond  the  rcl.ativcly  innocent  realm  of 
the  prosecutor’s  published  wridngs.  The  only  possible  explanation 
has  been  given  by  Douglas  himself.  He  was  most  anxious  thtit 
the  ase  against  his  father  should  proceed,  and  he  naturally  resented 
any  arguments  in  favour  of  its  abandonment.  During  the  meeting 
in  the  Caf^  Royal  he  was,  as  he  subsequently  put  it  in  a letter 
which  he  wrote  to  Harris  many  years  later  (1925),  “terribly  afraid 
that  Oscar  would  weaken  and  throw  up  the  sponge.”  Hence  his 
desire  to  get  him  out  of  the  restaurant  as  soon  as  possible,  which 
he  did  in  a manner  not  noticeably  marked  by  courtesy.  ‘T  did 
not  tell  you  our  case  for  fear  I might  not  convince  you,”  he  con- 
tinued in  this  letter,  "and  that  you  and  Shaw  might,  even  after 
hearing  it,  argue  Wilde  out  of  the  state  of  mind  I had  got  him 
into.” 

What  Douglas  described  as  “our  case”  was  really  his  private  case 
against  his  father,  and  he  failed  to  see  at  this  stage,  or  at  any  time 
subsequendy,  that  the  evidence  he  wished  to  give  would  be  held 
inadmissible  in  any  English  Court  of  law.  It  rested  on  the  mistaken 
belief  that  Sir  Edward  Clarke  would  begin  by  launching  a violent 
attack  against  Queensberry.  In  later  years  Douglas  liked  to  assert 
that  he  had  obtained  a promise  from  Clarke  that  he  would  put  him 
45 


Oscar  Wilde. 


into  the  witness  box  to  prove  his  father's  true  character — a claim 
which,  it  may  be  added,  has  been  emphatically  denied  by  Sir 
Edward  Clarke.  (“I  made  no  such  agreement  or  promi.se.”) 
Douglas  certainly  appears  to  have  expected  that  he  would  be  allowed 
to  depict  Queensberry  as  outwardly  pretending  to  be  a solicitous 
father  trying  to  save  his  son,  whereas  in  fact  he  had  behaved  like 
an  inhuman  brute  towards  every  member  of  his  family.  Douglas 
did  not  appreciate — ^indeed  he  never  grasped  the  point  as  long  as 
he  lived — that  such  evidence  as  this  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  issue 
to  be  decided  at  the  trial,  and  that,  even  if  he  did  go  into  the  box, 
he  would  never  be  permitted  to  give  it.  “The  question  of  Lord 
Queensberry’s  character  was  quite  irrelevant  to  the  case,  and  Wiis 
never  mentioned  in  my  instructions  or  in  consultation,”  wrote  Sir 
Edward  Clarke  in  answer  to  a correspondent  who  had  raised  the 
point  when  The  Autobiography  of  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  was  pub- 
lished in  1929;  “and  if  an  attempt  had  been  made  to  give  such 
evidence  the  judge  would  of  course  have  peremptorily  stopped  it.”® 
The  sole  issue  which  the  jury  would  have  to  decide  was  a simple 
one  of  fact.  Did  Oscar  Wilde  pose  as  a sodomite?  If  the  jury 
found  tltat  he  did  not,  then  Queensberry  was  guilty  of  libel. 


VI 


The  trial  of  Lord  Queensberry  on  a charge  of  criminally  libel- 
ling Oscar  Wilde  opened  at  the  Old  Bailey  on  3rd  April,  1895, 
before  Mr.  Justice  Henn  Collins,  an  excellent  auninal  judge, 
later  Lord  Collins  of  Kensington.'  Like  Oscar  Wilde  and 
Edward  Carson,  who  were  in  reality  the  principal  protagonists  in 
the  case,  Henn  Collins,  J.,  was  also  an  Irishman  and  had  been 
educated  at  the  University  of  Dublin.  The  trial  took  place,  not  in  the 
commodious  building  which  houses  the  present  Central  Criminal 
Court,  but  in  the  dingy  courtroom,  the  scene  of  so  many  grim 


9 Douglas’s  entidsms  of  Clarke  in  ooQoexion  with  this  and  the  other  trials  are 
discussed  below  io  Appendix  at  p.  346. 

1 Richard  Henn  Collms  (1842-1911)  was  appointed  a judge  of  the  Queen's 
Bench  Division  of  the  High  Court  in  1891.  % became  ^ster  of  the  Rolls  in 
1901  and  went  to  the  House  of  Lords  as  a Lord  of  Appeal  in  1907  with  the  grant  of 
.a  life  peerage. 

46 


Introduction. 


tragedies  in  the  past,  which  was  pulled  down  with  the  surrounding 
structure  a few  years  lattr.  The  prosecution  was  represented  by 
Sir  Edward  Clarke,  Q.C.,  M.P.,  Mr.  Charles  William  Mathews 
and  Mr.  Travers  Humphreys,  while  Mr.  Edward  Carson,  Q.C., 
M.P.,  along  with  Mr.  Charles  Gill  and  Mr.  Arthur  Gill  appeared 
for  the  defence.  Mr.  Edward  Besley,  Q.C.,  and  Mr.  J.  L. 
Monckton  held  watching  briefs  for  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  Lord 
Douglas  of  Hawick.® 

As  the  Court  filled  up  more  than  an  hour  before  the  judge  was 
due  to  take  his  seat  on  the  bench,  someone  made  a joke  about 
“the  importance  of  being  early,”  which  raised  a laugh.  Soon 
there  was  not  a seat  or  corner  to  be  had,  while  the  gangways  were 
crowded  with  curious  bystanders.  It  was  observed,  however,  that 
no  ladies  were  present.  First  of  the  parties  to  arrive  was  Lord 
Queensberry.  He  came  in  alone  and  stood,  hat  in  hand,  in  front 
of  the  dock,  an  insignificant  and  unaristocratic  looking  figure  witli 
his  drooping  lower  lip  and  red  whiskers.  He  was  seen  to  be 
wearing  a Cambridge  blue  hunting  stock  instead  of  the  more  eon 
ventional  collar  and  tie.  He  spoke  to  nobody  and  nobody  spoke  to 
him.  He  was  followed  some  time  later  by  Wilde,  who  immediately 
sat  down  in  front  of  his  counsel  and  began  to  talk  to  them  in 
animated  tones.  Though  smartly  dressed  in  a frock  coat  and  wear- 
ing a flower  in  his  button-hole,  he  seemed  to  be  in  a more  serious 
frame  of  mind  than  he  had  shown  at  the  Police  Court,  and  he 
asked  for  a glass  of  water  to  be  placed  in  front  of  him  and  handed 
to  him  when  he  went  into  the  box.  He  is  also  said  to  have  smiled 
at  Carson,  who  looked  coldly  past  him.  Meanwhile  in  the  seats 
reserved  for  the  defendant’s  solicitors,  Mr.  Charles  Russell  was  seen 
to  be  in  conversation  with  Inspector  Littlecltild,  the  private  detective 
who  had  been  instrumental  in  procuring  the  evidence  on  which  the 
defendant  was  relying  to  complete  his  plea  of  justification,  in 
another  room  in  the  building,  carefully  guarded  from  further  con- 
tamination by  the  outside  world,  a wretched  band  of  youths  was 


2 Lord  Douglas  of  Hawick,  elder  brother  of  Lord  Allred  Douglas,  .ind  lieir 
to  the  Marquessate  of  Queensberry  sinca  Lord  Drumlanrig’s  death  (see  above,  p.  21, 
note),  had  become  acquainted  with  one  of  the  youths  mentioned  in  the  defendant's 
pica  of  justification— Ernest  Scarfe— whom  he  had  first  met  on  his  way  out  to 
Australia  in  1893.  For  this  reason  it  was  considered  desirable  for  him  to  be 
lBgall|  represented.  He  subsequently  went  bail  for  'Wilde.  Sec  below,  p,  76 


47 


Oscar  Wilde. 


waiting  to  substantiate  this  evidence,  laughing  together  and  smok- 
ing cigarettes. 

The  judge  was  a little  late;  but,  when  he  appeared,  no  time  was 
wasted  on  preliminaries.  In  answer  to  the  usual  question  put  to  him 
by  the  Clerk  of  Arraigns  the  defendant  in  a clear  voice  pleaded 
not  guilty  and  that  the  words  complained  of  were  true  and 
published  for  the  public  bencht.  As  he  did  so  he  cast  a glance  of 
undisguised  contempt  in  the  direction  of  the  prosecutor.  Perhaps 
it  should  be  added  here  that,  had  the  charge  been  one  of  either 
treason  or  felony,  instead  of  misdemeanour,  Queensberry  could 
have  insisted  on  his  right  of  being  tried  by  his  peers.  As  things 
were,  of  course,  he  was  tried  like  a commoner.  The  only  right 
he  might  have  exercised,  by  virtue  of  his  nobility,  was  that  of 
remaining  covered  during  the  trial,  although  such  a peculiar  pro- 
ceeding was  probably  regarded  as  obsolete  by  this  date.’ 

By  the  time  the  hands  of  the  clock  in  the  Court  room  pointed  to 
eleven  o’clock,  Sir  Edward  Clarke  was  well  into  his  opening  speech 
for  the  prosecution.  This  stout,  short  and  bewhiskered  figure,  alWt 
extremely  dignified,  who  looked  more  like  an  old-fashioned  parson 
than  a successful  Queen’s  Counsel,  showed  himself  a master  of  the 
advocate’s  art  on  this  occasion.  Although  in  its  studied  moderation 
it  did  not  commend  itself  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  who  had  been 
hoping  for  an  all-out  attack  on  his  father,  the  speech  was  never- 
theless a remarkable  forensic  achievement.  'T  never  heard  anything 
to  equal  it  in  all  my  life,”  Carson  said  afterwards  to  a friend  in 
the  House  of  Commons.  “Both  matter  and  manner  were  superb.” 
In  particular,  Clarke’s  synopsis  of  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray, 
which  the  defence  had  alleged  in  die  plea  of  justification  to  be  an 
immoral  and  obscene  work,  was  delivered  in  admirably  chosen 
language.  It  may  also  be  noted  that,  although  he  spoke  in  deadly 
earnest,  Clarke  managed  to  raise  several  unintentional  laughs. 
The  first  was  when  having,  like  the  good  lawyer  that  he  was, 
endeavoured  to  anticipate  the  defence’s  tactics  by  introducing  one 
of  the  more  apparently  compromising  Wildc-Douglas  letters,  he 
remarked  that  the  words  employed  by  the  prosecutor  in  this  epistle 

I The  Ust  peer  known  to  have  enjoyed  the  priviiege  of  remainlnc  covered  in 
Court  was  the  fourth  Bari  of  Abingdon  at  his  trial  tor  criminal  iSel  by  Lord 
Kenyon,  C.J.,  in  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  at  Westminster  in  1794. 

48 


Introduction. 


might  appear  extravag<int  to  those  who  were  in  the  habit  of  wriliiij> 
commercial  correspondence.  A little  later  he  provoked  loud  mirth 
when  he  described  how  Queensberry  had  endeavoured  to  force  hi. 
way  into  the  St.  James’s  Theatre  on  the  first  night  of  Tht 
Importance  of  Being  Earnest  with  a large  bouquet  made  of  vegc 
tables.  The  laughter  was  repeated  a few  minutes  later  when,  bt 
an  unconscious  slip  of  the  tongue,  Clarke  referred  to  the  defend.int 
in  the  case  as  Lord  Rosebery.  This  unseemly  levity  was  rebuked 
in  indignant  tones  by  Wilde's  leading  counsel. 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  opening,  Clarke  put  the  Albemarle 
Club  porter  in  the  box,  where  he  repeated  the  formal  evidence  of 
publication  of  the  libel  which  he  had  given  at  the  Police  Court.  Hr 
was  not-  cross-examined.  Immediately  afterw.nrds  the  prosecutor 
followed  him  into  the  box,  and  Clarke  began  the  examination-in- 
chief of  his  main  witness.  Wilde  answered  his  coun.scl’s  questions 
with  an  easy  assurance.  “The  demeanour  of  Mr.  Wilde  during 
his  examinalion-in-chicf  was  excellent,"  noted  Sir  P,dward  Clarke 
afterwards.  “He  was  quiet  and  clear  and  definite  in  hi.s  evidence." 
However,  the  statement  that  his  age  was  tliirty-nine  r;ui,swl  Canstin 
to  cast  a sharp  glance  in  the  direction  of  his  old  classmate  and 
hastily  make  a note.  When  the  witness  was  on  the  .stibiect  of  his 
first  meeting  with  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  the  defendant  asked  for 
writing  materials  and  from  his  place  in  the  dock  began  to  scribble 
furiously,  the  result  ultimately  being  handed  down  to  C.arson  bv 
an  usher. 

Carson  began  his  cross-examination  shortly  before  the  luncheon 
adjournment,  he  continued  throughout  the  afternoon  and  he  had 
not  concluded  before  the  Court  rose  for  the  day.  It  was  in  fact 
completed  during  the  following  morning.  This  famous  cros.s- 
examination,  which  is  fully  reproduced  in  the  following  pages,  has 
been  often  described  by  students  of  jurisprudence  and  is  justly  held 
up  as  a brilliant  forensic  model.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  case  it 
evoked  a striking  encomium  from  the  bench.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  it  was  a truly  extraordinary  performance,  particularly  as  the 
great  Irish  counsel  was  suffering  from  an  extremely  bad  cold  at  the 
time. 

The  opening  question  revealed  the  cross-examiner’s  skill. 
Carson  was  in  the  habit  of  attaching  prime  importance  to 

D 49 


Oscar  Wilcic. 


this  question,  but  when  ho  went  into  LiOiut  on  that  April 
morning  he  did  not  know  what  it  was  going  to  he  in  tliis 
case.  Wiide’s  statement  about  his  age  gave  him  liis  cue.  Wilde 
was  over  forty,  in  reality  nearer  forty-one  than  thirty-nine,  a fact 
which  Carson  brought  home  to  the  witness  by  holding  up  a copy 
of  his  birth  certificate.  It  was  a small  point,  but  at  tlie  very  outset 
Wilde  had  been  detected  in  a stupid  lie,  the  effect  of  which  was 
not  lost  upon  the  jury,  particularly  when  Carson  followed  it  up  by 
contrasting  Wilde’s  true  age  with  that  of  Lord  Alfred  Douglas, 
with  whom  the  witness  admitted  to  having  stayed  at  many  places 
both  in  England  and  on  the  Continent.  The  damaging  effect  of 
these  admissions  was  to  some  extent  offset  by  Wilde’s  spariding 
answers  to  the  questions  put  to  him  about  Dorian  Gray  and  other 
of  his  writings.  Here  he  scored  off  Carson  heavily.  His  spon- 
taneous quips  were  every  bit  as  good  as  those  he  had  put  into  the 
mouths  of  the  characters  in  An  Ideal  Husband  and  The  Importanee 
of  Being  Earnest.  Soon  the  Court  rocked  with  laughter.  This  was 
indeed  as  good  as  a play— and  a Wilde  play  tit  thail 

It  will  be  seen  iltat  Carson  made  cnnsitlcrablc  cajiiittl  out  of 
Wilde’s  association  with  an  Oxford  undcrgraditittc  miig.i/int'  railed 
The  Chameleon.  It  was  in  the  first  and  only  issue  of  this  [irriodlcttl 
(December,  1894)  that  Wilde’s  well  known  Phrases  and  Philosophies 
for  the  Use  of  the  Young  originally  came  out.  Unfortttnately  the 
issue  also  contained  a highly  objectionable  story  on  the  theme  of 
male  homosexuality  called  The  Priest  and  the  Acolyte.  This 
story  was  published  anonymously,  but  certain  people  had  endea- 
voured to  fasten  tlie  authorship  on  Wilde  at  the  time,  seeing  that 
his  name  appeared  openly  in  print  in  another  part  of  the  magazme. 
However,  the  story  was  not  written  by  Wilde  but  by  The 
Chameleon’s  editor,  an  undergraduate  from  Exeter  College  named 
John  Francis  Bloxam.  On  the  contrary,  Wilde  strongly  disapproved 
of  the  story  and  voiced  a vigorous  protest  when  his  attention  was 
drawn  to  it,  with  the  result  that  The  Chameleon  immediately 
ceased  publication.  Consequently  Carson  failed  to  elicit  any 
evidence  of  sympathy  on  Wilde’s  part  either  with  the  subject  matter 
of  the  story  or  with  its  treatment  Asked  whether  he  considered  the 
story  to  be  immoral,  Wilde  replied:  “It  is  worse— it  is  badly 
written.”  Carson  thereupon  turned  to  Wilde’s  acknowledged  con- 

50 


Introduction, 


tribution  of  epigrams;  and,  although  Wilde  experienced  no  dilhculty 
in  interpreting  and  elucidating  these  witty  paradoxes,  some  I'f 
which  he  was  at  pains  to  point  out  were  not  intended  to  be  taken 
too  seriously,  the  fact  that  tliey  had  appeared  alongside  such  a 
tale  as  The  Priest  and  the  Acolyte  was  unfortunate  for  Wilde, 
since  without  doubt  it  inclined  the  jury  in  some  measure  towards 
the  view  that  he  had  posed  in  the  role  which  Queensberry  attributed 
to  him. 

So  long  as  he  remained  on  literary  ground,  even  when 
questioned  about  his  seemingly  equivocal  letters  to  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas,  Wdde  more  than  held  his  own  in  the  duel  of  wits  with 
his  fellow  countryman.  But  when  Carson  moved  on  to  the 
prosecutor’s  relations  with  certain  other  named  individuals,  as  he 
did  later  in  the  afternoon,  Wilde  began  to  be  much  less  sure  of 
himself,  aldiough  he  maintained  his  brilliant  flow  of  repartee.  The 
mention  of  the  name  of  Alfred  Taylor,  followed  by  those  of 
several  blackmailers,  introduced  an  ominous  note,  The  fares  of  ihr 
twelve  good  men  and  true  in  the  jury-box  plainly  showed  signs 
of  surprise  when  Carson  began  to  a.sk  tbc  witness  nboiu  various 
youths  whose  acquaintance  Wilde  had  made,  anti  surprise  gave  w.iy 
to  sheer  astonishment  when  the  Irish  advocate  with  a tliamaiic 
gesture  produced  a suit  of  clothes,  a silver-mounted  walking  slick 
and  other  presents  which  Wilde  admitted  having  given  one  of 
them,  a lad  who  sold  newspapers  on  the  pier  at  Worthing.  Wilde’s 
humorous  references  to  this  occupation  as  the  first  he  had  heard 
of  the  lad’s  connexion  with  literature  and  also  to  the  straw  hat  with 
a red  and  blue  band,  which  was  one  of  the  presents  alluded  to  as 
"his  unfortunate  selection,”  failed  to  dispel  the  unfavourable 
impression  created  by  this  damaging  incident,  with  which  the  day’s 
proceedings  closed.  Nevertheless  the  witness  seemed  confident  that 
he  could  explain  all  these  matters  satisfactorily. 

Next  morning  Wilde  appeared  considerably  more  subdued  in  the 
witness  box  than  on  the  first  day.  But  he  was  still  in  characteristic 
form;  to  begin  with  he  managed  to  keep  up  a running  fire  of 
banter,  whether  it  was  a question  of  his  preference  for  iced 
champagne  contrary  to  his  doctor’s  orders  ("Never  mind  your 
doctor’s  orders,  sir.”  “I  never  do.")  or  the  time  it  took  to  walk 
from  his  house  in  Tite  Street  to  the  abode  of  one  of  his  young 

51 


Oscar  Wilde. 


male  friends  (“I  don’t  know.  I never  walk.").  But  as  name  after 
name  rolled  from  Carson’s  uncompromising  lips  the  witness  showed 
signs  of  impatience,  his  own  counsel  began  to  feel  uncomfortable 
and  the  faces  of  the  middle  class  jury  got  longer  and  longer, 
The  questions  now  had  a particularity  about  them  which  made 
Sir  Edward  Clarke  distinctly  uneasy.  Parker,  Atlcins,  Scarfe. 

. . . Introduced  to  Wilde  by  the  obliging  Taylor,  these 
youths  were  either  grooms  or  valets  or  else  out  of  employ- 
ment. What  could  a man  like  Wilde  have  in  common  with 
them?  Yet  he  admitted  he  had  given  them  all  money  or  presents, 
having  received  nothing  in  return  except  the  pleasure 'of  their 
company.  The  witness,  now  obviously  nettled,  declared  his  delight 
in  the  society  of  people  much  younger  than  himself.  “1  recognize 
no  social  distinctions  at  all  of  any  kind,”  he  added  by  way  of 
explanation;  "and  to  me  youth,  the  mere  fact  of  youth,  is  so 
wonderful  that  I would  sooner  talk  to  a young  man  for  half-an-hour 
than  be— well,  cross-examined  in  Court.” 

Very  shortly  after  this  sally  the  climax  to  the  crosii-cxamination 
was  reached,  The  wimess  was  being  questioned  about  a boy  named 
Grainger,  who  was  a servant  in  Lord  Alfred  Douglas’s  rooms  at 
Oxford.  Did  Wilde  ever  kiss  him?  “Oh,  dear  no  I He  was  a 
peculiarly  plain  boy,  He  was,  unfortunately,  extremely  ugly.” 
Quick  as  lightning  Carson  pressed  home  his  advantage.  Was  that 
the  reason  Wilde  had  never  kissed  liimP  Why  had  he  mentioned 
his  ugliness?  “Why,  why,  why,  did  you  add  that?"  rapped  out 
Carson  in  staccato  tones.  At  last  Wilde,  who  had  hitherto  shown 
remarkable  self-restraint,  lost  his  temper.  But  it  was  now  too  late. 
The  damage  was  done;  and  the  foolish  slip,  which  caused  it,  could 
not  be  covered  up. 

The  remainder  of  this  'sensational  aoss-examination  was 
unspectacular,  and  Wilde  must  have  breathed  a sigh  of  relief  when 
he  saw  Carson  gather  up  his  papers  and  sit  down.  In  his  re- 
examination, Sir  Edward  Clarke  adopted  the  course,  which  he  had 
hoped  to  avoid,  of  repeating  the  contents  of  Queensberry’s  insulting 
letters  and  putting  them  to  the  witness.  The  wording  of  these 
letters,  in  which  the  writer  betrayed  the  grossest  malice  towards 
his  family,  questioning  as  he  did  his  son  Alfred’s  legitimacy, 
created  a great  stir  in  Court,  The  defendant  stood  up  in  the  dock, 

52 


Introduction, 


every  now  and  then  grinding  his  teeth  at  Wilde  and  shaking  his 
head  in  the  most  violent  manner.  The  more  pathetic  passages  in 
Clarke’s  monotonous  recitation  caused  the  Marquess  to  bite  his 
lips  as  if  in  an  effort  to  restrain  his  tears.  The  onlookers  gasped 
in  amazement.  Counsel  had  not  concluded  his  re-examination  when 
the  Court  adjourned  for  lunch. 

The  uneasiness  which  the  unpleasant  developments  earlier  in  the 
day  had  produced  in  Clarke’s  mind  was  considerably  increased  when 
his  client  approached  him  during  this  interval.  “Can  they  examine 
me  about  anything  and  everything  they  choose?”  Wilde  asked  his 
leading  counsel.  Clarke  replied  that  this  was  so.  Wilde  went  on 
to  inquire  whether  they  could  question  him  about  an  incident  which 
had  never  been  mentioned.  “Cerminly,”  rejoined  Clarke.  “What 
is  it  that  is  in  your  mind?”  “Well,”  s.aid  Wilde,  “some  time  ago  1 
was  turned  out  of  the  Albemarle  Hotel  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
and  a boy  was  with  me.  It  might  be  awkward  if  they  found  out 
about  that." 

When  the  Court  re-assembled  at  two  o’clock.  Wilde  was  not  in 
his  place  in  the  witness  box.  Clarke’s  introduction  of  fresh  evidence 
in  his  re-examination  gave  his  opponent  the  right  to  cross-examine 
upon  it,  and  the  rumour  quickly  went  round  the  Old  Dailey  that 
Wilde  had  thrown  up  the  case  and  was  fleeing  abroad  rather  than 
face  Carson  again.  But  the  rumour  turned  out  to  be  false,  for 
about  fifteen  minutes  later  Wilde  hurriedly  appeared  and  apologized 
to  the  bench  for  being  late,  explaining  that  the  clock  in  the 
restaurant  where  he  Itad  been  lunching  was  slow. 

The  rest  of  Clarke's  re-examination  was  principally  directed  to 
showing  with  characteristic  skill  that  in  all  he  had  done  for  the 
various  young  men  whose  names  had  been  mentioned  Wilde  was 
activated  by  the  highest  motives. 

After  the  jury  had  put  a couple  of  questions  to  the  witness  about 
the  undergraduate  magazine  to  which  he  had  contributed,  Wilde 
stepped  down  from  the  witness  box  and  left  the  Court.  Clarke 
then  announced  that  the  case  for  the  prosecution  was  closed,  add- 
ing the  words  (to  which  Carson  unsuccessfully  objected)  “for  the 
present.  By  way  of  explanation  Clarke  said  that  he  reserved  to 
himself  the  power  to  call  evidence  to  rebut  anything  that  might  be 
53 


Oscar  Wilde. 


sprung  upon  him  by  the  defence.  To  this  course  the  judge  agreed 
at  the  exercise  of  his  discretion. 

Everyone  who  followed  the  case  in  Court— at  least  all  the  lay 
onlookers— expected  Clarke  to  put  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  in  the 
box  immediately  Wilde  had  left  it.  The  handsome  fair-haired 
young  man  was  both  ready  and  eager  to  give  evidence,  and  great 
surprise  was  expressed  on  all  sides  when  Clarke  intimated  that  his 
case  was  closed  and  sat  down.  All  sorts  of  reasons  have  since  been 
advanced,  many  of  them  quite  fantastic,  as  to  why  Wilde’s  counsel 
did  not  call  Douglas  at  this  stage.  The  suggestion,  which  has 
been  made,  that  Clarke  was  in  some  mysterious  and  unconscious 
way  subjected  to  certain  social  influences  which  prevented  him  from 
pursuing  this  course,  can  be  dismissed  as  without  foundation. 
Clarke  did  not  care  a jot  for  social  influences— his  exertions 
on  his  client’s  behalf  in  the  “Baccarat  case”  afford  ample 
proof  of  that— -and  all  who  knew  him  or  have  studied  his 
long  career  with  attention  must  agree  that  he  was,  if  any- 
thing, over-scrupulous  in  his  professional  conduct.  No  doubt 
he  consulted  with  Wilde  on  this  occasion  as  to  the  line  he  actually 
took,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  statement  which  Wilde  himself 
issued  to  the  press  at  the  conclusion  of  the  trial;  and  even  Alfred 
Douglas,  although  he  always  lamented  that  he  was  not  given  the 
opportunity  of  going  into  the  box  and  showing  up  his  father  for  the 
brute  that  he  was,  as  he  subsequently  told  me,  never  doubted  that 
Clarke  acted  otherwise  than  in  what  he  considered  to  be  the  best 
interests  of  his  client.  In  any  event,  for  the  reasons  which  have 
already  been  noticed,  Douglas  would  not  have  been  permitted  to 
speak  as  to  his  father’s  behaviour  towards  his  wife  and  family. 

In  later  trials,  in  which  he  was  called  to  give  evidence,  Douglas 
proved  himself  a forceful  and  at  times  almost  terrifying  witness, 
but  at  this  period  he  was  an  unknown  quantity.  How  he  would 
have  reacted  in  the  face  of  Carson’s  fire  is  a matter  of  speculation. 
His  testimony,  in  so  far  as  he  would  have  been  allowed  to  give  it, 
might  have  diverted  some  sympathy  from  Queensberry,  but  it  is 
difficult  to  see  how  it  could  have  secured  his  father’s  conviction. 
Besides  this,  if  Clarke  had  called  Douglas  at  all,  it  would  almost 
certainly  have  been  by  way  of  rebuttal.  Not  being  a lawyer,  Douglas 
did  not  appreciate  the  rule  of  evidence  which  permits  fresh  facts  to 
54 


Introduction. 


be  adduced  after  the  close  of  the  defendant’s  case  lor  the  purpose  of 
rebutting  evidence  given  by  the  defendant  upon  tliose  issues  where 
the  onus  of  proof  lies  with  him.  It  was  quite  possible,  in  view  of 
Queensberry’s  letters  to  his  son,  which  had  been  read  out  in  Couit, 
that  the  defendant,  when  his  turn  came  to  go  into  the  box,  might 
be  disposed  to  make  the  gravest  allegations  on  the  subject  of  his 
son's  relations  with  Wilde.  As  a precautionary  measure  Charke  may 
have  planned  to  call  Douglas  in  rebuttal  of  these  charges,  if  and 
when  they  were  made.  However,  as  events  turned  out,  Queensberry 
never  reached  the  witness  box,  since  the  prosecution  was  withdrawn 
while  his  counsel  was  still  opening  his  defence. 

Carson’s  opening  address  was  in  his  best  vein.  From  the  outset 
tlie  Irish  counsel  made  it  clear  that  the  defendant  adhered  to  all 
the  charges  he  had  put  forward,  and  he  called  upon  the  jury  as 
fathers  to  say  whether  Lord  Queensberry  was  not  justified  in  endea- 
vouring by  every  means  in  his  power  to  rescue  his  son  from  the 
baneful  domination  of  the  prosecutor.  When  Carson  went  on  to 
say  that  he  was  proposing  to  put  into  the  witness  box  the  viirioiis 
young  men  with  whom  Wilde  had  been  criminally  associated,  the 
atmosphere  in  the  crowded  Court  room  suddenly  became  tense,  and 
Clarke  realized  that  his  client  now  stood  in  grave  personal  danger. 
In  particular  there  was  the  blackmailer  Wood.  No  wonder,  sug- 
gested Carson,  Wilde  was  so  anxious  to  ship  him  off  to  America 
where  no  doubt  he  hoped  he  would  remain  for  good.  “But  as  a 
matter  of  fact,”  announced  Carson,  “Wood  is  here  and  will  be 
examined  before  the  jury.”  A gasp  of  amazement  went  round 
the  Court  at  these  words. 

Carson  had  been  on  his  feet  for  about  an  hour  when  the  Court 
rose  for  the  day,  and  Clarke  went  back  to  the  Temple  to  consider 
what  should  best  be  done  in  tlie  light  of  his  opponent's  threatened 
disclosures.  That  evening  he  considered  the  situation,  very  care- 
fully. In  view  of  what  Wilde  had  told  him  earlier  in  the  day, 
during  the  luncheon  adjournment,  Carson’s  questions  had  assumed 
a very  different  aspect,  and  Clarke  could  not  fail  to  see  what  was 
the  tenor  of  their  Implication.  He  had  appointed  a consultation 
before  the  sitting  of  the  Court  next  morning.  That  night-  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  tell  AVilde  frankly,  when  he  met  him,  that  in  view 
of  the  way  the  case  had  gone,  the  jury  must  be  expected  to  acquit 
55 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Lord  Queensberry.  In  these  circumstances  he  thought  it  best  for 
Ids  client  to  withdraw  from  the  prosecution  and  allow  him  to 
make  a statement  to  the  Court,  consenting  to  a verdict  as  regards 
the  charge  of  "posing."  By  thus  admitting  the  lesser  charge, 
which  in  fact  had  not  been  made  out  by  the  defence,  Clarke  hoped 
to  prevent  the  intervention  of  the  Public  Prosecutor,  a development 
which  might  lead  to  Wilde’s  arrest  in  open  Court  if  the 
case  were  allowed  to  continue.  Mathews,  who  was  one  of  the 
two  junior  counsel,  was  for  fighting  the  case  to  a finish,  since,  as 
he  pointed  out,  the  witnesses  whom  Carson  had  indicated  his  inten- 
tion of  calling  were  all  self-confessed  accomplices  and  themselves 
criminals  whose  testimony  might  well  be  discredited,  and  he 
regarded  the  case  as  far  from  losL  However,  Clarke’s  advice  pre- 
vailed and  his  client  agreed  with  it. 

“When  I saw  Mr.  Wilde,"  Clarke  subsequently  wrote  in  his 
unpublished  recollections  of  the  trial,  “I  told  him  that  it  was  almost 
impossible  in  view  of  all  the  circumstances  to  induce  a jury  to 
convict  of  a criminal  offence  a father  who  was  endeavouring  to  save 
his  son  from  what  he  believed  to  be  an  evil  companionship.  1 
.said  that  upon  full  consideration  I advised  him  in  his  own  interest 
to  allow  me  to  make  that  statement  to  the  Court,  and  to  withdraw 
from  the  prosecution;  and  I said  that,  if  the  case  went  to  its  end  and 
the  jury  found  that  the  accusations  were  justified,  the  judge  would 
unquestionably  order  his  arrest.  He  listened  quietly  and  gravely, 
and  then  thanked  me  for  my  advice  and  said  he  was  prepared  to 
act  upon  it.  I then  told  him  that  there  was  no  necessity  for  his 
presence  in  Court  while  the  announcement  was  being  made.  I 
hoped  and  expected  that  he  would  take  the  opportunity  of  escaping 
from  the  country,  and  I believe  he  would  have  found  no  difficulty 
in  doing  so." 

Meanwhile  Carson  was  again  on  his  feet  in  Court,  continuing 
his  remorseless  harangue.  “The  wonder,  is,"  he  told  the  jury, 
“not  that  the  gossip  should  have  reached  Lord  Queensberry’s  ears, 
but  that  after  it  was  known,  this  man  Wilde  should  have  been 
tolerated  in  society  in  London  for  the  length  of  time  he  has,” 
Presently  Clarke  entered  the  Court  and  was  seen  to  pluck  Carson 
by  the  gown.  A few  moments’  consultation  followed,  and  then 
Clarke  rose  to  make  the  announcement  which  he  had  carefully 

56 


Introduction. 


prepared  beforehand.  His  words,  to  which  the  reader's  attention 
is  particularly  drawn  in  the  text  which  follows,  were  uttered  under 
the  stress  of  great  emotion, 

Ten  minutes  later  the  jury  on  the  judge’s  direction  returned  a 
verdict  of  not  guilty,  having  also  found  that  the  libel  was  true 
and  that  it  was  published  for  the  public  benefit.  A prolonged 
outburst  of  cheering  amongst  the  onlookers  in  Court  followed  the 
declaration  of  this  verdict,  which  the  ushers  made  little  attempt  to 
suppress.  Soon  the  news  spread  to  the  crowds  in  the  street  outside. 

By  this  dme  Wilde  had  left  the  building  by  a side  entrance, 
and  so  he  avoided  the  ribald  scenes  which  met  the  eyes  of  Clarke 
and  Carson  as  they  emerged  from  the  Court  together.  Loose 
women  were  dancing  on  the  pavement.  “What  a filthy  business  I” 
exclaimed  Clarke  in  disgust.  “I  shall  not  feel  clean  for  weeks.” 

As  soon  as  he  had  obtained  his  discharge  from  the  Court,  the 
victorious  defendant  sent  a characteristic  mcss.ige  to  his  adversary, 
on  whom  the  tables  were  now  to  be  savagely  turned.  “If  the 
country  allows  you  to  leave,”  said  Queensberry,  “all  the  better  for 
the  country;  but,  if  you  take  my  son  with  you,  I will  follow  you, 
wherever  you  go,  and  shoot  you!" 

VII 

It  was  towards  noon  on  the  morning  of  5th  April  when  Oscar 
Wilde  left  the  Old  Bailey,  He  was  accompanied  by  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas,  who  had  remained  in  Court  throughout  the  trial. 
Together  they  drove  to  a nearby  hotel  where  Wilde  wrote  the 
following  letter  to  the  Evening  News'. — 

Holborn  Viaduct  Hotel, 
London,  E.C. 

5th  April,  1895. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Evening  News. 

Sir, 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  me  to  have  proved  my 
case  without  putting  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  in  the  witness  box 
against  his  fadier.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  was  extremely  anxious 
57 


Oscar  Wilde. 


to  go  into  the  box,  but  1 would  not  let  him  do  so.  Rather 
than  put  him  into  so  painful  a position,  I determined  to  retire 
from  the  case,  and  to  bear  on  my  own  shoulders  whatever 
ignominy  !ind  shame  might  result  from  my  prosecuting  Lord 
Queensberry. 

Yours,  Stc., 

Oscar  Wilde, 

Having  despatched  this  letter  and  partaken  of  some  lunch  together 
in  the  hotel,  Wilde  and  Douglas  went  on  to  call  at  the  offices  of 
Messrs.  Lewis  & Lewis,  solicitors,  in  Ely  Place.  There  they  saw  Sir 
George  Lewis  and  asked  him  if  he  could  suggest  anything.  “What 
is  the  good  of  coming  to  me  now?"  exclaimed  this  shrewd  old 
lawyer.  "I  am  powerless  to  do  anything.  If  you  had  had  the  sense 
to  bring  Lord  Queensberry’s  card  to  me  in  the  first  place,  I would 
have  torn  it  up  and  thrown  it  in  the  fire,  and  told  you  not  to  make  a 
fool  of  yourself.” 

But  even  before  this  discussion  took  place  Qucen.sbcrry’$  solicitor 
had  written  to  the  Director  of  Public  Prosecutions. 


Hon.  Hamilton  Cuffe, 
Director  of  Prosecutions. 


37  Norfolk  Street, 
Strand,  W.C. 

5th  April,  1895. 


Re  Oscar  Wilde. 

Dear  Sir, 

In  order  that  there  may  be  no  miscarriage  of  justice,  1 
think  it  my  duty  at  once  to  send  you  a copy  of  all  our 
witnesses’  statements  together  with  a copy  of  the  shorthand 
notes  of  the  trial. 

Yours  faithfully, 

Charles  Russell. 


In  those  days  the  Director  of  Public  Prosecutions  had  his  office 
in  the  Treasury  building  in  Whitehall,  and  it  was  here  that  the 
decision  was  taken  to  apply  for  a warrant  for  Wilde’s  arrest  after 
the  Director  had  examined  the  papers  he  had  received  from  Russell 

58 


Introduction. 


in  the  course  of  the  morning,  <nnd  after  he  had  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  Russell  in  person  about  an  hour  later.  Par- 
ticulars were  also  despatched  by  hand  to  the  House  of  Commons, 
where  they  were  placed  hefore  the  Home  Secretary,  Mr,  Asquith, 
and  the  Law  Officers,  Sir  Robert  Reid  and  Sir  Frank  Lockwood. 
It  was  at  once  agreed  that  a warrant  should  be  applied  Cor,  and 
the  Home  Secretary  gave  instructions  that  wherever  Wilde  might 
be  found  he  should  be  stopped.  A little  later,  about  3,30  p.m., 
Detective-Inspector  Brockwell  of  Scotland  Yard,  accompanied  by 
a Treasury  official,  appeared  before  Sir  John  Bridge,  the  Bow  Street 
magistrate,  to  apply  for  the  warrant.  The  magistrate  did  not  imme- 
diately grant  the  application,  but  adjourned  the  Court  for  over  an 
hour  and  a half.  Whether  this  was  to  enable  Wilde  to  catch  the  last 
train  for  the  Continent,  or  bectiuse  he  wished  to  have  time  to  read 
the  documents  forwarded  by  Charles  Russell  to  Mr.  Hamilton 
Cuffe,  is  not  clear.  The  fact  remains  that  it  was  not  until  past  five 
o'clock  that  Sir  John  Bridge  actually  signed  the  warrant  for  Wilde’s 
arrest. 

Meanwhile  Wilde  had  gone  to  the  Cadogan  Hotel  in  Sloane 
Street  where  Alfred  Douglas  was  staying.  Robert  Ross,  wlio 
arrived  there  soon  after  lunch,  advised  him  to  proceed  immediately 
to  Dover  and  thence  try  to  get  over  to  France.  Other  friends 
.apparently  repeated  this  advice  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  Even 
Wilde’s  wife,  when  Ross  went  to  tell  her  what  had  happened  at  the 
Old  Bailey,  said  between  sobs:  “I  hope  Oscar  is  going  away 
abroad.”  But  unfortunately  Wilde  could  not  make  up  his  mind 
what  to  do,  until  it  was  made  up  for  him  by  the  force  of  events. 
He  remained  in  a pathetic  state  of  indecision  lamenting  that  "the 
train  has  gone”  and  that  “it  is  too  late.”  Soon  after  five  o’clock 
Thomas  Marlowe,  who  was  then  a reporter  on  the  Star,^  called 
at  the  hotel  and  asked  to  see  Wilde.  Wilde  refused  to  see  him, 
but  sent  Ross  instead.  The  journalist  then  declared  that  he  had 
just  seen  a message  come  through  on  the  tape  to  the  effect  that 


^Thomas  Marbwe  (1868*1935)  was  later  editor  o{  The  DaUy  Mail  and  chairman 
ol  Associated  Newspapers,  Ltd. 


Oscar  Wilde. 


the  warrant  had  already  been  issued.  Ross  immediately  went  into 
the  other  room  and  gave  the  news  to  Wilde,  who  is  stated  to  have 
gone  “very  grey  in  the  face.”  Shortly  before  this,  Douglas,  who 
could  stand  the  tension  no  longer,  had  gone  off  to  the  House  of 
Commons  to  see  his  cousin,  George  Wyndham,  and  find  out 
whether  a prosecution  was  inevitable.  Oscar  sat  on  with  his  two 
friends,  Robert  Ross  and  Reginald  Tuincr,®  glumly  waiting  for  the 
blow  to  fall  and  drinking  glass  after  glass  of  hock  and  seltzer  in  an 
endeavour  to  steady  his  nerves. 

About  half-past  six  there  was  a knock  on  the  door  of  Room 
No.  53.  Two  men  entered.  "Mr.  Wilde,  1 believe?”  said  one  of 
them.  "Yes?  Yes?"  replied  Wilde,  who  was  seated  in  an  arm- 
chair by  the  fireplace,  smoking  a cigarette.  His  two  companions 
were  seated  by  a table  on  which  stood  some  half  empty  glasses. 
On  the  floor  lay  copies  of  the  evening  'papers,  which  had  evidently 
been  scanned  in  haste  and  thrown  aside.  “We  are  police  officers,” 
said  one  of  the  visitors,  “and  hold  a warrant  for  your  arrest  on  a 
charge  of  commitdng  indecent  acts."  The  speaker  was  Inspector 
Richards  of  Scotkad  Yard,  and  he  immediately  added ; "I  must 
ask  you  to  accompany  me  to  the  police  station." 

"Where  shall  I be  taken  to?"  Wilde  then  asked, 

“You  will  have  to  go  to  Scotland  Yard  with  me  and  then  to 
Bow  Street." 

“Can  I have  bail?” 

“I  don’t  dunk  you  can,"  replied  the  detective-inspector.  “But 
that  is  a matter  for  the  magistrate  to  decide.” 

"Well,”  said  Wilde,  “if  I must  go,  I will  give  you  the  least 
possible  trouble.” 

As  he  struggled  into  his  overcoat  and  picked  up  his  gloves  and 
a novel,  which  he  had  been  reading,  the  effects  of  the  hock  and 


2 Reginald  Turnei  (iSdQ'igjS)  was  one  of  Wilde’s  most  intimate  friends;  be 
helped  Ross  to  nurse  him  during  lus  deal  illness  m Paris.  He  was  the  illegitimate 
son  o£  a well-known  newspaper  proprietor:  see  Hesketh  Fearson,  Osca\  Wtl^t 
<1947),  at  p.  a66. 


60 


Introduction. 


seltzer  which  he  had  been  imbibing  throughout  the  afternoon  were 
plainly  noticeable.  He  was  allowed  to  take  the  book  with  him.® 

At  Scotland  Yard  the  warrant  upon  which  Wilde  had  been 
aricsted  was  read  over  to  him.  It  charged  him  with  committing 
acts  of  gross  indecency  with  various  male  persons.  Wilde  thereupon 
put  out  his  hand  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  read  it.  This  he  was 
not  permitted  to  do.  He  then  asked,  “What  are  the  mentioned 
dates?’’  To  this  the  inspector  in  charge  replied,  “On  the  20th  March, 
1893,  and  divers  other  dates.”  Prisoner  and  escort  then  continued 
their  journey  to  Bow  Street  police  station,  where  the  prisoner  was 
booked  in.  In  accordance  with  the  customary  regulations  he  was 
searched,  a proceeding  which  revealed  ,£200  in  £$  Bank  of  England 
notes,  also  several  writs  and  a letter  from  Taylor.  Taylor’s  letter 
showed  that  he  (Taylor)  knew  he  was  being  watched  by  ln.spector 
Littlechild  and  diat  the  detective  had  searched  his  room  during  his 
absence.  The  writs  had  been  issued  by  various  firms  for  money 
owing  in  respect  of  cigarette  cases,  jewellery  and  other  goods  sup- 
plied by  them  to  the  prisoner.  When  these  formalities  were  com- 
pleted, Wilde  was  conducted  to  one  of  the  cells,  where  he  was 
locked  up  for  the  night. 

At  the  time  of  his  arrest,  Wilde  had  asked  Robert  Ross  to  go 
along  to  his  house  in  Tite  Street  and  collect  some  clothes  and  other 
necessaries  which  he  would  require  when  in  custody.  In  due 
course  Ross  arrived  at  Bow  Street,  but  he  was  neither  allowed  to 
sec  the  prisoner  nor  to  leave  the  Gladstone  bag  which  he  had 
brought  with  him.  A little  later  Alfred  Douglas  appeared.  He  had 
succeeded  in  seeing  his  cousin  George  Wyndham  in  the  lobby  of 

® Next  mornmg  the  newsp^perh  came  out  with  the  headlines : ARREST  OP 
OSCAR  WILDE.  YELLOW  BOOK  UNDER  HIS  ARM.  This  gave  rise  to  the 
erroneous  impression,  widely  believed  at  the  time  and  subsequently  repeated  bv 
R H.  Sherard,  Frank  Harris  and  others  of  Wilde's  biographers,  uat  the  work  which 
Wilde  had  been  reading  at  the  dene  of  his  arrest  was  The  yellow  the 

famous  contemporary  periodical.  This  was  published  by  John  Lane  of  the  ^dley 
Head,  who  also  happened  to  be  Wilde's  publisher.  Actually  the  book  in  question 
was  Aphrodite,  a novel  by  Wilde's  friend  Pierre  Louj^s,  and  it  happened  to  have  a 
yellow  cover.  That  the  contrary  impression  prevailed  at  the  time  is  evidenced  by 
the  fact  that  an  angry  crowd  demonstrated  outside  the  of^ces  of  the  Bodley  Head  in 
Vigo  Street  and  broke  the  windows.  “It  killed  The  yellow  John  Law 

used  to  say,  "and  it  nearly  killed  rac.”  Though  popularly  idendfied  with  this 
publicadofi,  in  fact  Wilde  had  no  connexion  whatever  witn  The  Yellow  Bool^, 
and  he  never  contributed  to  its  p.nges.  See  J.  Lewis  May,  John  Lane  And  The- 
Nineties  (1936). 

61 


Oscar  Wilde. 


ihc  House  of  Commons,  only  to  be  told  on  the  authority  of  the 
Attorney-General  that  his  friend  was  to  be  prosecuted.  Returning 
to  the  Cadogan  Hotel,  he  found  that  Wilde  had  aheady  been 
arrested,  and  so  he  had  hurried  ofl  in  a cab  to  Bow  Street.  He 
hoped  somehow  that  he  might  be  able  to  bail  him  out,  and  was 
much  distressed  when  informed  by  the  inspector  on  duty  that  on 
no  consideration  could  his  applicadon  be  entertained.  He  was 
also  told  that,  even  if  bail  were  subsequently  granted  by  the  magis- 
trate, other  sureties  besides  himself  would  certainly  be  required. 
Douglas  then  went  on,  apparendy  at  Wilde’s  previous  suggestion, 
to  the  Haymarket  and  St.  James’s  Theatres,  where  Wilde’s  plays 
were  running,  and  asked  thek  respective  managers,  Lewis  Waller 
and  George  Alexander,  if  they  would  be  prepared  to  go  bail  for 
the  author.  Both  refused. 

That  evening  the  sensational  developments  of  the  day  were 
being  discussed  in  hundreds  of  bars  and  clubs  and  homes  through- 
out the  country,  and  pundits  of  the  “I-told-you-so”  type  were  sane- 
timoniously  holding  forth  on  the  dangers  of  art  and  literature,  at 
least  when  pursued  by  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde.  To  their  discredit  the 
newspapers  surpassed  themselves  in  their  vulgar  gloating.  "And 
so  a mast  miserable  case  is  ended,’’  wrote  The  Echo,  a London 
evening  paper  of  the  period.  “Lord  Queensberry  is  triumphant, 
and  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  is  ‘damned  and  done  for.’  He  may  now 
change  places  with  Lord  Queentiierry  and  go  into  the  dock  himself. 
He  appears  to  have  illustrated  in  his  life  the  beauty  and  truthfulness 
of  his  teachings.  He  said,  in  cross-examination,  that  he  considered 
there  was  no  such  thing  as  morality,  and  he  seems  to  have 
harmonized  his  practice  with  his  theory.  The  counsel  for  the 
prosecution,  the  judge,  and  jury  are  entitled  to  public  thanks  for 
abruptly  terminating  the  trial,  and  so  preventing  the  publication 
of  probably  revolting  revelations.” 

But  this  deske  on  the  part  of  The  Echo  to  spare  its  readers’ 
feelings  was  only  a sham.  Next  day  it  did  not  hesitate  to  print 
what  it  called  a "detailed  report”  of  the  proceedings  at  Bow  Street 
Police  Court  where  the  magistrate  heard  the  first  part  of  the 
evidence  on  which  he  ultimately  committed  Wilde  for  trial. 

Meanwhile  messages  of  congratulation  were  pouring  in  on 
Queensberry.  On  being  informed  by  one  of  the  Sunday  news- 
63 


Introduction. 


papers  that  a further  pile  of  messages  was  waiting  for  him,  die 
delighted  Marquess  said : "You  know,  I have  not  much  to  do  with 
distinguished  people,  but  I had  a very  nice  letter  from  Lord  Claud 
Hamilton,  and  a kind  telegram  from  Mr.  Charles  Danby,  the 
actor,  with  'Hearty  Congratulations,’  Stc.  Various  clubs  have  tele- 
graphed also,  Here  is  a message;  ‘Every  man  in  the  City  is  with 
you.  Kill  the P.” 


vm 

Before  his  committal  for  trial  on  19th  April,  Wilde  was  twice 
remanded  in  custody,  since  Charles  Gill,  who  appeared  for  the 
prosecution,  required  three  hearings  before  asking  for  a committaL 
On  each  occasion  Wilde’s  defending  counsel  Travers  Humphreys 
applied  for  bail,  saying  that  sureties  could  be  offered  to  any 
amount  and  pointing  out  that  the  prisoner  had  made  no  attempt  to 
get  away,  although  he  knew  for  many  hours  prior  to  his  arrest 
that  a warrant  might  be  issued.  “You  can  understand,”  urged 
Travers  Humphreys  on  the  third  occasion,  "that  there  are  witnesses 
to  be  obtained  for  the  defence,  and  it  is  very  difficult  for  Mr. 
Wilde  to  communicate  with  persons  and  prepare  his  defence  unlcs.s 
he  is  to  have  the  facilities  of  a man  at  liberty.”  But  the  magistrate 
persisted  in  his  refusal  both  in  respect  of  Wilde  and  also  of  Alfred 
Taylor,  who  had  also  been  arrested.  “In  deciding  what  to  do  with 
a case  of  this  kind,”  declared  Sir  John  Bridge  from  the  bench, 
"I  have  to  use  my  discretion  according— in  the  words  of  a great 
judge— to  the  evidence  given  and  the  gravity  of  the  accusation. 
With  regard  to  the  gravity  of  the  case,  I think  there  is  no  worse 
crime  than  that  with  which  the  prisoners  are  charged.  As  to  the 
evidence,  all  I shall  say  is  that  I do  not  think  it  slight,  and  I shall 
therefore  refuse  bail.” 

In  the  first  part  of  this  declaration  the  magistrate  seems  to  have 
allowed  his  sense  of  righteous  indignation  to  get  the  better  of 
him,  since  he  momentarily  overlooked  the  fact  that  murder,  rape, 
and  a good  many  other  offences  are  unquestionably  more  serious 
than  the  misdemeanours  with  which  Wilde  and  his  fellow  prisoner 
were  charged.  So  far  as  the  evidence  went,  however,  the  magistrate 
was  on  surer  ground.  The  blackmailer  Wood,  a youth  named 

63 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Parker,  and  a low-class  music-hall  comedian  named  Atkins,  alt 
deposed  to  have  been  introduced  to  Wilde  by  Taylor  for  immoral 
purposes,  and  each  swore  that  misconduct  had  taken  place  between 
himself  and  Wilde  at  various  times  and  in  various  places.  Their 
statements  were  corroborated  generally  by  two  wimesses,  a masseur 
and  a chambermaid  respectively,  who  swore  that  in  March,  1893, 
they  had  seen  Wilde  in  bed  with  a young  man  in  the  Savoy  Hotel. 

The  Police  Court  proceedings,  which  began  on  6th  April,  con- 
dnued  on  nth  April  and  concluded  on  19th  April,  were  on  the 
whole  unspectacular.  In  reporting  them,  the  daily  press  displayed 
the  utmost  animosity  against  Wilde,  referring  to  him  as  “described 
as  a gentleman,”  and  so  forth.'  At  one  point  the  magistrate,  who, 
like  the  newspapers,  seems  to  have  had  some  difficulty  in  restrain- 
ing his  feelings,  gave  a remarkable  eitamplc  of  judicial  ignorance 
when  he  inquired  what  Kettner’s  was.  It  is  scarcely  credible  that 
Sir  John  Bridge,  who  had  sat  as  a magistrate  for  many  years, 
should  not  have  known  of  this  celebrated  restaurant  which  was 
situated  barely  a mile  distant  from  his  own  Court.  Taylor,  whose 
r61e  as  co-defendant  was  to  be  particularly  unfortunate  for  Wilde, 
was  brought  into  the  dock  when  Gill  was  in  the  middle  of  examin- 
ing one  of  his  witnesses  on  the  first  day.  He  was  a dark,  clean- 


^ With  the  exception  of  one  daily  and  one  weekly  journal,  The  Daily  Chronicle 
and  Reynold's  Netuspaper,  the  whole  of  the  London  press  was  uniformly  hostile  to 
Wilde.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  protested  publicly  against  this  unfair  attitude  of  the 
newspapers,  to  one  o(  which  he  wrote  me  following!— 

submit  that  Mr.  Oscor  Wilde  has  been  tried  by  the  newspapers 
before  he  has  been  tried  by  a jury,  that  his  case  has  been  almost  hQ{Meis]^ 
picjudiccd  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  from  whom  the  jury  who  must  try  his 
case  will  be  drawn,  and  that  he  is  praaically  deliverco  over  to  the  fury  of  a 
cowardly  and  brutal  mob. 

Sir  John  Bridge,  in  refusbg  bail  to-day,  stated  that  he  knew  of  no 
graver  offence  than  that  with  which  Mr.  Wilde  is  chared.  Mr.  Wilde,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  is  charged  with  a 'misdemeanour’  punishable  by  two  years’ 
ijnpribonmcnf  with  or  without  hard  labour  as  a maximum  penalty:  therefore, 
the  offence  with  which  he  is  charged  is,  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  which  Sir 
John  Bridge  ts  supposed  to  represent,  comparatively  crifling.  I should  very 
much  like  to  know  how,  m view  of  that  fact,  Sir  John  Bridge  can  reconcile 
what  he  said  with  his  conscience,  and  with  his  position  as  the  absolutely 
impartial  exponent  of  the  law,  and  whether  it  is  not  obvious  that,  in 
saying  what  he  did,  he  allowed  his  personal  feelings  on  a pardcular  point 
to  override  his  sense  of  abstract  justice,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  man  charged 
before  him.  If  a police  magistrate  of  twenty  years’  experience  show*  such 
flagrant  prejudice,  what  can  be  exp^d  from  the  men  who  will  at  the  Old 
BaHey  form  the  jury  of  what  the  law  humorouslv  terms  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde’s 
‘peers’?” — The  S/ar,  20th  April,  1895. 

64 


Introduction. 


shaven  man  in  his  early  thirties,  who  appeared  well-dressed  and 
greeted  his  fellow  prisoner  with  a bow.“ 

Perhaps  the  most  sensational  moment,  although  its  full 
implication  was  not  generally  realized  till  the  trial,  was 
when  Atkins,  in  describing  a visit  he  had  made  to  Paris 
with  Wilde,  stated  that  on  his  return  from  the  theatre  one 
night  to  the  hotel  where  they  were  staying,  he  found  someone 
else  in  bed  with  Wilde.  “That  was  Schwabe,”  he  added  in  a low, 
hesitating  tone.  “Leave  that  for  the  moment,”  hurriedly  inter- 
posed Gill.  Reference  had  been  made  to  a certain  Maurice  Schwabe 
during  the  Queensberry  trial,  but  his  name  had  been  written 
down  on  a piece  of  paper  and  handed  up  to  the  judge  without 
actually  being  mentioned.  This  reticence  was  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  individual  in  question  was  a nephew  by  marriage  of  the 
Solicitor-General.^ 

While  Wilde  was  making  his  first  appearance  before  the  Bow 
Street  magistrate,  Sir  Edward  Clarke  went  into  his  room  in  the  Law 
Courts  and  wrote  the  following  letter  to  the  solicitor  who  had 
instructed  him  in  the  Queensberry  case. 

Royal  Courts  of  Justice, 
6th  April,  1895. 

Dear  Sir, 

Having  regard  to  the  events  of  yesterday,  I think  it  right 
to  say  that  if  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  would  like  me  to  defend  Mm 
at  his  trial  my  services  shall  be  at  his  disposal,  and  in  respect 
of  services  so  offered  I,  of  course,  shall  not  accept  any  fees. 
Will  you  kindly  communicate  with  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  and 
ascertain  his  wishes. 

Faithfully  yours, 

Edwabu  Clarke. 

C.  0.  Humphreys,  Esq. 

The  solicitor  replied  the  same  day  that  he  had  seen  his  client, 
“who  wishes  me  to  express  to  you  his  deepest  gratitude  for  your 
very  kind  offer,  which  he  most  gladly  accepts,”  This  magnanimous 
gesture,  which  also  involved  the  gratuitous  services  of  the  two 

S Taylor  was  offered  his  liberty  if  he  would  turn  ICing’s  Evidence  and  testify 
against  Wilde,  but  be  refused. 

3 Sir  Frank  Lockwood  bad  married  a Misi  Julia  Schwabe. 

E 65 


Oscar  Wilde. 


junior  counsel  who  had  been  with  him  in  the  first  trial,  Willie 
Mathews  and  Travers  Humphreys,  was  fully  in  keeping  with 
Clarke’s  reputation  for  personal  integrity  and  his  lofty  conception 
of  a barrister’s  duty.  “It  was  upon  these  terms,”  he  modesdy  noted 
afterwards,  “that  I appeared  in  all  subsequent  proceedings.”  Need- 
less to  say,  he  was  thoroughly  reviled  in  certain  quarters  for  his 
action  in  defending  such  a man  as  Wilde,  although  he  was  content 
to  leave  his  client’s  interests  in  the  Bow  Street  proceedings  largely 
in  the  hands  of  his  able  junior,  Travers  Humphreys.* 

It  was  widely  thought  that  Alfred  Douglas  would  also  be 
arrested.  But  the  authorities  had  no  evidence  against  the  younger 
man,  a fact  revealed  in  an  interesting  letter  written  by  George 
Wyndham,  M.P.,  to  his  father  within  forty-eight  hours  of  Wilde’s 
arrest.  The  full  text  of  this  letter  was  published  many  years  later 
by  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  in  his  book  Without  Apology  (1938). 


Sunday,  yth  April,  1895. 

...  1 ought  to  tell  you  that  1 know  on  the  authority  of 
Arthur  Bailout,  who  has  been  told  the  case  by  the  lawyers 
who  had  all  the  papers,  that  Wfilde]  is  certain  to  be  con- 
denaned,  and  that  the  case  is  in  every  way  a very  serious  one, 
involving  the  systematic  ruin  of  a number  of  young  men.' 
Public  feeling  is  fiercely  hostile  to  him,  among  all  classes. 

There  is  no  case  against  Bosie,  but  he  has  associated  him- 
self with  WfildeJ  up  to  the  last  moment;  and  is  spoken  of 
as  having  known  the  witnesses  who  will  be  called.  Men  like 


^ Even  the  reputable  Law  Journ^  (13th  April,  1895)  cenaured  Clarke  for  defend- 
ing Wilde  without  feC|  although  it  later  tnodiiied  its  attitude  and  sought  to  justify 
Clarke’s  conduct  of  the  defence  generally.  **The  ludicrous  suggestion  which  has 
been  made  in  certain  quarters  tnot  Sir  Edward  Clarke  will  suffer  politically  by 
his  brilliant  and  strenuous  advocacy  in  Uie  Wilde  case  might  well  be  passed  over 
in  silence  were  it  not  that  the  duty  of  counsel  in  defending  prisoners  is  a subject 
on  which  many  people  entertain  hazy  ideas,  It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  on  the 
supreme  ability  and  courage  with  which  Sir  Edward  Clarke  fought  his  difficult 
and  losing  battle;  everyone  admits  that  fact,  and  indeed  it  forms  the  ground  for 
the  absurd  rumour  to  which  wc  have  referred.  We  shall  merely  remark  in  pass- 
inz  that  the  English  Bar  has^  every  right  to  be,  and  is  to  a man,  proud  of  the 
brilliant  intellec^l  power  displayed  m this  case  by  one  who  is  amongst  the 
most  distinguished  01  Nisi  Prius  advocates.  . T . The  most  strenuous  demnee  is 
ffie  right  of  even  the  worst  criminals,  and  is  in  accordance  with  the  best  interests 
of  society  as  a whole  ” Law  ]oumalt  ist  June,  1895. 

6 These  young  men.  were  nearly  all  accomplices  and  no  evidence  was  given  at  the 
trials  to  show  that  Wilde  had  "ruined”  any  of  them. 

‘ 66 


Introduction. 


Arthur  [Balfour]  and  Lord  Houghton,  who  have  spoken  to 
me,  speak  in  kind  terms  of  him;  but  are  unanimous  in  say- 
ing that  he  had  better  go  abroad  for  a year  or  two.  . . . 

Bosie  took  it  very  well.  He  thought  I was  going  to  ask 
him  to  go  at  once,  and  began  by  saying  that  nothing  on  earth 
would  make  him  leave  London  until  the  trial  was  over.  You 
may  be  sure  that  nothing  will : he  is  quite  insane  on  the 
subject.  ...  If  W[ilde]  was  released,  Bosie  would  do  any- 
thing he  asked,  and  no  entreaty  from  you  or  his  mother  would 
weigh  with  him. 

But  Wfilde]  is,  humanly  speaking,  sure  to  be  imprisoned. 
I told  Bosie  so;  and  he  agreed  that  it  was  almost  certain. 

. . . Whatever  is  proved,  it  is  common  knowledge  in 
London  that  there  was  a sort  of  secret  society  around  the  man 
Taylor.  . . . 

Wilde  was  removed  from  Bow  Street  to  Holloway  Prison, 
where  he  remained  in  custody  from  the  date  of  his  first  remand 
until  he  was  eventually  released  on  bail  on  the  jury’s  failure  to 
reach  a verdict  after  his  first  trial  nearly  a month  later.  During 
this  period  he  was  deserted  by  almost  all  his  friends,  with  the 
conspicuous  exception  of  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  In  the  case  of  a 
number  of  them,  however,  it  must  be  admitted  that  their  desertion 
was  enforced,  since,  fearing  for  their  own  skins,  they  crossed  in 
a troupe  to  the  Continent,  there  to  stay  until  the  trials  were  over 
and  they  judged  it  safe  to  return.  As  for  Douglas,  he  visited  Wilde 
at  Holloway  every  day  down  to  the  eve  of  the  first  trial,  when, 
in  response  to  a request  from  Sir  Edward  Clarke,  who  considered 
that  his  continued  presence  in  London  was  prejudicial  to  his  client, 
he  too  withdrew  to  France.* 

The  position  in  which  the  unfortunate  Wilde  now  found  himself 
undoubtedly  came  as  a great  shock  to  him.  He  could  not  have 


ft  "1  left  OA  the  day  before  hlJ  trial  at  his  owa  most  ur^ot  request,*'  Doudflft 
explained  aftciwards  to  Henry  Lobouchere,  **  and  at  the  equally  urgent  request  of  nU 
le^l  advisers,  who  assured  aie  that  tny  presence  in  the  country  could  only  do  him 
harm,  and  that,  if  I were  called  as  a witness,  I should  infallibly  destroy  what  small 
chance  he  had  of  acquittal.  Mr,  Wilde's  own  counsel  absolutely  declined  to  call  me 
as  8 witness,  fearing  the  harm  I might  do  him  in  crosS'examina^n.”  From  France, 
after  the  trial,  Douglas  also  wrote  a remarkable  letter  to  W.  T.  Stead,  at  that  time 
editor  of  the  Rivtcw  of  Repiews,  setting  out  his  views  on  the  whole  case.  For 
the  text  of  this  letter,  which  Stead  declined  to  publish,  see  Appendix  D,  below,  at 
p.  360. 

67 


Oscar  Wilde. 


believed  it  possible.  “With  what  a crash  this  felll”  he  wrote  to  his 
friend  whom  he  called  “ The  Sphinx,”  one  of  the  very  few  who 
stood  hy  him,  on  his  third  day  in  Holloway.  “Why  did  the  Sybil 
say  fair  things?  I thought  but  Co  defend  him  from  his  father;  I 

thought  of  nothing  else,  and  now ."  And  then  some  days 

later;  “My  counsel  seems  to  wish  the  case  to  be  tried  at  once— 
I don’t— nor  does  Bosie; — bail  or  no  bail,  I think  we  had  better 
wait.”  About  the  same  time  he  wrote  to  another  friend,  Robert 
Harborough  Sherard:  "I  am  ill — apathetic.  Nothing  but  Alfred 
Douglas’s  daily  visits  quicken  me  into  life,  but  even  him  I only 
see  under  humiliating  and  tragic  conditions.”'  Douglas  has 
described  these  visits  in  his  autobiography,  how  they  sat  facing 
each  other  in  one  of  a long  row  of  boxes  and  separated  by  a long 
corridor  about  a yard  wide,  which  was  patrolled  throughout  the 
interview  by  a warder.  As  Wilde  was  slightly  deaf,  he  had  con- 
siderable difliculty  in  hearing  what  his  visitor  said  owing  to  the 
confused  babel  of  voices  from  the  adjoining  boxes,  where  similar 
interviews  were  taking  place.  As  he  looked  at  Douglas,  and 
Douglas  looked  at  him,  the  tears  would  roll  down  his  cheeks. 
Although  he  finally  agreed  to  his  friend's  departure  to  Calais,  the 
event  greatly  depressed  him.  “I  don’t  know  what  to  do,”  lie  wrote 
at  this  time;  “my  life  seems  to  have  gone  from  me.  I feel  caught 
in  a terrible  net.  I don’t  know  where  to  turn.  I care  less  when 
I think  he  is  thinking  of  me — think  of  nothing  else.” 

The  conduct  of  the  press  generally  has  already  been  noticed. 
One  paper,  in  a shocking  exhibition  of  bad  taste  not  to  mention 
downright  cruelty,  described  with  devilish  glee  an  imaginary  picture 
of  the  prisoner  pacing  up  and  down  his  cell  at  night  like  a caged 
beast.  As  Frank  Harris  wrote  later,  “his  arrest  was  the  signal  for 
an  orgy  of  Philistine  rancour  such  as  even  London  had  never 
known  before.  The  Puritan  middle  class,  which  had  always 
regarded  Wilde  with  dislike  as  an  artist  and  an  intellectual  scoffer, 
a mere  parasite  of  the  aristocracy,  now  gave  free  scope  to  their 
disgust  and  contempt,  and  everyone  tried  to  outdo  his  neighbour 

1 Rohcit  Harborough  Shermd  (1861-1943),  journalist  and  great-grandson  of  the 
poet  Wordsworth,,  became  probably  Wude’s  most  chivalrous  deader  in  print. 
See  hia  Oscof  Wilde:  The  Story  of  an  Unhappy  Friendship  (1902),  Life  of  Oscar 
Wtlde  (190^,  The  Fed  Osear  Wilde  (1915),  Oscar  Wilde  Twice  Defended  (i934)» 
and  Bernard  Shaw,  Fran\  Harris  and  Oscar  Wtlde  (1937). 

68 


Introduction. 


in  expressions  of  loathing  and  abhorrence.”*  Foi  eximple, 
pamphlets  attacking  him  and  containing  the  more  salacious  portions 
of  the  evidence  given  at  Bow  Street  Police  Court  were  hawked  for 
sale  in  the  streets  of  the  metiopolis. 

Another  calamity,  which  the  major  catastrophe  brought  in  its 
tiain,  was  that  his  income  immediately  dried  up  at  the  source. 
His  plays  were  taken  off  and  the  sales  from  his  books  practically 
ceased.  Such  of  his  books  as  were  in  print  were  struck  out  of  the 
publisher’s  lists.  An  Ideal  Husband  was  withdrawn  from  the 
Haymarket  Theatre  on  the  day  after  his  ancst“;  and,  though  by  a 
seemingly  ignoble  compromise,  as  a result  of  which  his  name  was 
pasted  over  on  the  bills  advertising  The  Impoitance  of  Being 
Earnest  at  the  St.  James’s  Theatie,  the  life  of  this  play  was  pro- 
longed for  a few  weeks,  it  too  came  oil.*"  Madame  Saiah  Bernhardt, 
the  great  French  tragedienne,  had  some  time  ago  agreed  to  produce 
Salami,  with  heiself  in  the  name  part,  but  on  now  being  .isked  at 
Wilde’s  instance  to  advance  some  money  on  account  of  loyalties, 
she  ignoied  his  lequest,  although  it  was  repeated  sevcial  limes. 


* A liicnd  and  fellow  coumiyraan  ot  Wilde’s,  tlit  Ijic  W.  H Yuts,  with  whom  I 
once  discussed  the  nib|cct,  expressed  himself  in  similjr  terms.  lie  explained  the 
unanimity  n£  the  mob  by  the  f,ict  that  it  had  become  liypnouxed  by  a word  or  a 
notion,  .ind  showed  the  senseless  behsvioiir  of  .in  individii.il  under  the  eilcct  of 
hypnotic  suggespon.  "The  lage  agimsi  Wilde,"  sold  Yeats,  who  was  living  in 
London  at  the  time,  "was  also  camplicnted  by  the  Britisher’s  jealousy  ol  ait  and 
the  arnst,  which  is  geneially  dormaat  but  is  called  into  activity  when  the  .irtist  has 
got  outside  his  field  into  pubhcity  of  an  undesirable  land.  This  hatied  is  not  due 
to  any  action  of  the  artist  or  eminent  man;  it  is  merely  the  expression  of  an 
individual  hatred  and  envy,  become  collective  because  circumstances  have  made  it 
so." 

“ This  play  was  put  on  a wceL  latei  by  Charles  Wyndham  at  the  Ciiterton  Theatre, 
but  was  finally  withdrawn  after  a fortm^t. 

10  John  Lane,  Wilde’s  publishei,  who  was  in  New  York  on  business  at  the  time, 
wrote  home  to  a colleague  "'The  London  Theatres  on  Oscar  arc  very  amusing  to 
me,  rctainmE  his  plays  and  withdrawing  his  name  I I might  just  as  well  have 
ripped  out  tne  title-pages  and  sold  the  booksl”  According  to  Lane's  biogiapher, 
the  publisher  only  withdrew  Wilde’s  books  from  his  catalogue  under  protest  and 
in  response  to  strong  pressure  exerted  by  sut  ot  the  Bodlcy  Head’s  leading  authors - 
see  J.  Lewis  May,  John  Leiic  And  The  Nmeius  (1936),  at  p 80  It  may  be  added 
that  Lane  was  extremely  worried  by  the  menuon  in  the  Queensbary  tiial  of  the 
name  of  one  of  his  employees  at  the  Bodley  Head,  Edward  Shelley.  So  far  as 
The  Importance  of  Being  Barnest  is  concerned,  it  ts  only  fair  to  Sir  George 
Alexander's  memory  to  state  the  explanation  of  his  action  which  has  been  given 
by  his  biographer,  viz  , that  to  help  tlic  author,  whose  financial  condidon  he  knew 
to  be  desperate,  he  hoped  thereby  to  prolong  die  mn  of  the  play  see  A.  E W 
Mason,  Sir  George  Alesandei  and  the  St.  James'  Thesare  (1935),  at  p 80. 

69 


Oscar  Wilde. 


believed  it  possible.  “With  what  a crash  this  £clll”  he  wrote  to  his 
fiieiid  whom  he  called  " The  Sphinx,”  one  of  the  very  few  who 
stood  by  him,  on  his  third  day  in  Holloway.  “Why  did  the  Sybil 
say  fair  things?  I thought  but  to  defend  him  from  his  father;  I 

thought  of  nothing  else,  and  now .”  And  then  some  days 

later:  “My  counsel  seems  to  wish  the  case  to  be  tried  at  once — 
I don’t— nor  does  Bosie;— bail  or  no  bail,  I think  we  had  better 
wait.”  About  the  same  time  he  wrote  to  another  friend,  Robert 
Harborough  Sherard : “I  am  ill— apathetic.  Nothing  but  Alfred 
Douglas’s  daily  visits  quicken  me  into  life,  but  even  him  I only 
see  under  humiliating  and  tragic  conditions.’”  Douglas  has 
described  these  visits  in  his  autobiography,  how  they  sat  facing 
each  other  in  one  of  a long  row  of  boxes  and  separated  by  a long 
corridor  about  a yard  wide,  which  was  patrolled  throughout  the 
interview  by  a warder.  As  Wilde  was  slightly  deaf,  he  had  con- 
siderable difficulty  in  hearing  what  his  visitor  said  owing  to  the 
confused  babel  of  voices  from  the  adjoining  boxes,  where  similar 
interviews  were  taking  place.  As  he  looked  at  Douglas,  and 
Douglas  looked  at  him,  the  tears  would  roll  down  his  checks. 
Although  he  finally  agreed  to  his  friend’s  departure  to  Calais,  tin- 
event  greatly  depressed  him.  “I  don’t  know  what  to  do,”  he  wrote 
at  this  time;  “my  life  seems  to  have  gone  from  me.  I feel  caught 
in  a terrible  net.  I don’t  know  where  to  turn.  I care  less  when 
I think  he  is  thinking  of  me — I think  of  nothing  cl.'iC.” 

The  conduct  of  the  press  generally  has  already  been  noticed. 
One  paper,  in  a shocking  exhibition  of  bad  taste  not  to  mention 
downright  cruelty,  described  with  devilish  glee  an  imaginary  picture 
of  the  prisoner  pacing  up  and  down  his  cell  at  night  like  a caged 
beast.  As  Frank  Harris  wrote  later,  "his  arrest  was  the  signal  for 
an  orgy  of  Philistine  rancour  such  as  even  London  had  never 
known  before.  The  Puritan  middle  class,  which  had  always 
regarded  Wilde  with  dislike  as  an  artist  and  an  intellectual  scoffer, 
a mere  parasite  of  the  aristocracy,  now  gave  free  scope  to  their 
disgust  and  contempt,  and  everyone  tried  to  outdo  his  neighbour 

7 Robert  Harborough  Sherard  (1861-1^3),  journalist  and  great-grandson  of  the 
poet  Wordsworth,  became  probably  Wfloc’s  most  cliivalrous  deader  in  print. 
See  his  Oscar  Wilde:  The  Story  of  an  Unhappy  Friendship  (1902),  Life  of  Oscar 
Wilde  (1906),  The  Real  Oscar  Wtlde  (1915),  Oscar  Wilde  Twice  Defended  (t934)» 
and  Bernatd  Shaw,  Fran\  Harris  and  Oscar  Wilde  (1937). 

68 


Introduction. 


in  expressions  o£  loatliing  and  abhorrence.”®  For  example, 
pamphlets  attacking  him  and  containing  the  more  salacious  portions 
of  the  evidence  given  at  Bow  Street  Police  Court  were  hawked  for 
sale  in  the  streets  of  the  metropolis. 

Another  calamity,  which  the  major  catastrophe  brought  in  its 
train,  was  that  his  income  immediately  dried  up  at  the  source. 
His  plays  were  taken  off  and  the  sales  from  his  books  practically 
ceased.  Such  of  his  books  as  were  in  print  were  struck  out  of  the 
publisher’s  lists.  An  Ideal  Husband  was  withdrawn  from  the 
Haymarket  Theatre  on  the  day  after  his  arrest" ; and,  though  by  a 
seemingly  ignoble  compromise,  as  a result  of  which  his  name  was 
pasted  over  on  the  bills  advertising  The  Importance  of  Being 
Earnest  at  the  St.  James’s  Theatre,  the  life  of  this  play  was  pro- 
longed for  a few  weeks,  it  too  came  off.'"  Madame  Sarah  Bernhardt, 
the  great  French  tragedienne,  had  some  time  ago  agreed  to  produce 
Sdomi,  with  herself  in  the  name  part,  but  on  now  being  asked  at 
Wilde’s  instance  to  advance  some  money  on  account  of  royalties, 
she  ignored  his  request,  although  it  was  repeated  several  times. 

A luend  nnd  fellow  counciyman  of  Wilde's,  tlic  Ijic  W.  U.  Yeats,  wuh  wliom  I 
once  discussed  the  subject,  expressed  himself  in  similar  leims.  He  explained  the 
unanimity  of  the  mob  by  the  fact  th.it  a had  become  hypnotized  by  a word  or  a 
notion,  and  showed  the  senseless  behaviour  of  an  individual  under  the  effect  of 
hypnotic  suggestion.  “The  rage  against  Wilde,”  said  Yeats,  who  was  living  in 
London  nt  die  time,  "was  also  complicated  by  the  Britisher’s  jealousy  of  art  and 
the  artist,  which  is  generally  dormant  but  is  called  into  activity  when  the  artist  has 
got  outside  his  field  into  publicity  of  an  undoir.ibie  kind.  This  hatred  is  not  due 
to  any  action  of  the  artist  or  eminent  man;  it  is  merely  the  expression  of  an 
individual  hatred  and  envy,  become  collective  because  circumstances  have  made  it 
so.” 

8 This  plnv  was  put  on  a week  later  by  Charles  Wyndhain  at  the  Criterion  Theatre, 
but  was  hnalfy  withdrawn  after  a fortnight. 

10  John  Lane,  Wilde’s  publisher,  who  was  in  New  York  on  business  at  the  time, 
wrote  home  to  a colleague:  "The  London  Theatres  on  Oscar  are  very  amusing  to 
me,  retaiiung  bis  plays  and  withdrawing  his  name!  I might  just  as  well  have 
ripped  out  the  title-pages  and  sold  the  books!”  According  to  Lane’s  biographer, 
the  publisher  only  withdrew  Wilde's  books  from  his  catalogue  under  protest  and 
in  response  to  strong  pressure  exerted  by  six  of  the  Bodley  Head’s  leading  authors : 
see  f.  Lewis  May,  John  Lone  And  The  Nincsies  (1936),  at  p.  80.  It  may  be  added 
that  Lane  was  extremely  worried  by  die  mentbn  in  the  Queensberry  trial  of  the 
name  of  one  of  his  employees  at  the  Bodley  Head,  Edward  Shelley.  So  far  as 
T/ie  Importance  of  Being  Earnest  is  conconed,  it  is  only  fair  to  Sir  George 
Alexander’s  memory  to  state  the  explanation  of  his  action  which  has  been  given 
by  his  biographer,  viz.,  that  to  help  the  author,  whose  finandal  condition  he  knew 
to  be  desperate,  he  hoped  tlicreby  w prolong  the  run  of  the  play;  see  A.  E.  W, 
Mason,  Sir  George  Alexander  and  the  St.  James'  Theatre  (1935),  at  p.  80. 

69 


Oscar  Wilde, 


A still  worse  blow  fell  when  his  creditors  put  the  bailiffs  into 
his  house  in  Tite  Street,  and  he  was  sold  up.  The  sale,  it  may  be 
added,  was  conducted  by  the  auctioneer  in  scandalous  conditions. 
Valuable  pictures  and  first  editions  were  knocked  down  for  trifling 
sums.  Other  possessions,  including  some  of  the  author’s  original 
manuscripts,  were  actually  pilfered  on  the  spot  and  were  never 
subsequently  recovered.” 

Since  Wilde  and  Taylor  were  not  committed  for  trial  until  igth 
April,  and  as  the  next  Old  Bailey  sessions  were  due  to  begin  three 
days  later,  it  would  have  been  useless  in  point  of  time  for  their 
counsel  to  have  applied  for  bail  to  a judge  in  chambers.  However, 
Willie  Mathews,  on  behalf  of  Wilde,  did  apply  to  Mr.  Justice 
Charles,  when  the  sessions  opened,  to  ask  for  his  client’s  trial  to  be 
postponed  until  the  following  sessions  on  the  grounds  that  the 
defence  had  not  had  proper  ume  in  which  to  prepare  their  case  and 
further  that  “in  the  state  of  popular  feeling  existing  at  the  time  Mr. 
Wilde  would  not  get  a fair  and  impartial  trial.”  The  application 
was  opposed  by  Charles  Gill  for  the  Crown,  and  in  the  circum- 
stances the  judge  felt  that  he  could  not  accede  to  it.  As  to  the 
defendant’s  not  having  a fair  trial  his  lordship  thought  that  “any 
suggestion  such  as  that  was  groundless.” 

True  bills  having  already  been  found  by  the  grand  jury  against 
Wilde  and  Taylor,  Mr.  C.  O.  Humphreys,  Wilde’s  solicitor, 
informed  the  press  that  his  client  intended  to  plead  not  guilty  and 
that  he  wuld  fight  the  case  to  the  end. 

IX 

Wilde's  second  appearance  at  the  Old  Bailey,  his  first  in  the  dock', 
began  on  2nd  April,  1895.  The  trial  lasted  for  five  days  and  ended 
in  a disagreement  by  the  jury  on  its  verdict.  The  presiding  judge 
was  Mr.  Justice  Charles*;  Mr.  Charles  Gill,  along  with  Mr.  Horace 


They  included  A "Plorentine  Tragedy,  a play  in  blank  verse  written  in 
1893-^,  and  the  revised  and  enlar^  version  o£  The  Tormk  0/  Mr.  W.  H.,  which 
he  originally  wiote  for  Blac^wooa^s  Magazine.  On  Ac  latter,  see  below,  p.  130, 
and  note. 

iSir  Arthur  Charles  (1339-1931)  was  appointed  a judge  of  the  Queen's  Bench 
l^vision  of  the  High  Court  in  t88y.  He  retired  in  1897  and  was  created  a Privy 
Councillor  in  1903.  He  was  a diBOnguifibed  authority  on  ecclesiastical  law. 

70 


Introduction. 


Avory  (later  the  well-known  judge),*  and  Mr.  Arthur  Gill  appeared 
for  die  prosecudon;  Wilde  was  represented  by  the  same  three 
counsel  as  at  the  previous  trial,  while  Mr.  J.  P.  Grain*  appeared 
for  Taylor,  who  was  jointly  indicted  with  Wilde.  The  case  for  the 
Crown  took  three  days  to  complete,  the  greater  part  of  the  third 
day  being  occupied  with  the  reading  of  the  evidence  given  at  the 
Queensberry  trial,  which  was  put  in  verbatim. 

Wilde  and  Taylor  were  charged  together  under  a single  indict- 
ment containing  twenty-five  counts  and  alleging:  (a)  the  com- 
mission of  acts  of  gross  indecency  by  both  men  contrary  to  the 
Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act,  1885,  section  11;  and,  (b)  con- 
spiracy to  procure  the  commission  of  such  acts  by  Wilde.  There 
was  a further  charge  against  Taylor  of  having  acted  as  a procurer 
for  Wilde. 

At  the  outset.  Sir  Edward  Clarke  submitted  that  the 
prisoners  could  not  be  called  upon  to  plead  to  an  indictment  in  this 
form,  since  in  respect  to  the  conspiracy  charges  they  were  not  com- 
petent witnesses  and  could  not  be  called.  As  the  counts  were  at 
present  joined  the  prisoners  were  liable  to  be  cross-examined  on 
charges  to  which  they  were  debarred  from  giving  evidence-in-chief 
should  they  go  into  the  box.*  The  judge,  however,  ruled  against 
Clarke,  and  the  prisoner  aaordingly  pleaded  not  guilty  to  the 
indictment  as  framed.  At  the  close  of  the  prosecution’s  case  Clarke 
repeated  his  submission  which  was  now  supported  by  the  evidence 
given,  and  Charles  Gill  for  the  Crown  thereupon  withdrew  thd 
conspiracy  counts,  a course  which  produced  a mild  sensation  in 
Court.  "Of  course  I do  that,”  Gill  added,  "having  in  my  mind  that 
no  evidence  has  been  given  here  at  all  which  was  not  direedy 


s Horace  Avory  (1851-1935)  vras  a^iprontcd  a judge  of  the  King’s  Bench  Divisioii 
of  the  High  Court  in  191a  and  recaved  a knighthood  in  the  same  year.  At  ±e 
time  of  the  Wilde  trials  he  was  one  of  the  Junior  Treasury  Counsd  at  the  Old 
Bailey.  On  his  see  Gordon  Lang,  Mt.  Justice  Avory  (1933). 

i John  Peter  Grain  (18^0-1916)  had  a large  criminal  practice.  He  was  a brother 
of  Corney  Grain,  the  wdl-known  enttrtainer,  and  his  sister  was  married  to  the 
solicitor,  G.  0.  Humphreys. 

4 By  the  Criminal  Laiv  Amendment  Act,  1685  (sec.  ao),  any  person  diorgcd  with 
an  offence  under  this  Act  was  a competent  Imt  not  a compellable  witness.  In 
respect  of  all  other  offences,  both  felonies  and  misdemeanours,  an  accused  could  not 
give  evidence  in  his  own  defence  until  after  the  passing  of  the  Criminal  Evidence 
Act,  1898. 


71 


Oscar  Wilde. 


material  to  the  other  charges.”  This  provoked  Clarke  to  rejoin 
that,  i£  this  course  had  been  followed  in  the  first  instance,  he  would 
have  applied  for  the  two  prisoners  to  be  tried  separately.  But  he 
agreed,  nevertheless,  that  Crown  counsel  had  a legal  right  to  with- 
draw the  counts  at  any  stage  in  the  case.  The  effect  of  tlic  with- 
drawal of  the  conspiracy  counts  was  seen  when  Wilde  and  Taylor 
went  into  the  witness  box  in  succession  to  give  evidence  on  their 
own  behalf,  which  they  might  otherwise  not  have  done.® 

Charles  Gill  presented  the  Crown’s  case  with  marked  restraint. 
In  his  opening  it  was  nodceable  that,  when  referring  to  the 
defendants  by  name,  he  made  the  delicate  disdnetion  of  mentioning 
Wilde  as  “the  prisoner  Wilde,”  and  Taylor  as  “the  man  Taylor.” 
Wilde  looked  haggard  and  worn,  his  long  hair  was  dishevelled,  and 
it  was  plain  to  the  onlookers  in  Court  that  his  confinement  was 
beginning  to  tell  upon  his  physique.  He  seemed  bored  by  Gill  s 
opt  ning  rccitadon,  but  he  showed  some  interest  when  tlic  witnesses 
were  reached.  With  one  exception  these  witnesses  were  admitted 
accomplices— the  two  brothers  Parker,  Wood,  Atkins  and  Edward 
Shelley.  The  last  named  was  an  educated  young  man  who 
belonged  to  a good  middle-class  family,  and  at  the  time  of  tlie 
alleged  offences  had  been  employed  in  the  offices  of  Wilde’s  pub- 
lishers, Messrs.  Elkin  Mathews  & John  Lane.  In  addition  Wood 
and  Atkins  were  proved  to  have  levied  blackmail,  and  Atkins 
perjured  himself  to  such  an  extent  in  the  course  of  his 
testimony  that  the  judge  in  disgust  ordered  him  to  leave  the 
box.  The  only  other  individual  of  decent  family  and  upbringing 
besides  Shelley  called  by  the  prosecution  as  a supposed  criminal 
associate  of  Wilde’s  was  a youth  named  Sidney  Mavor,  and  he 
astonished  the  Court  by  repeating  the  statement  he  had  made  at 
Bow  Street  that,  although  he  had  once  stayed  the  night  as  Wilde’s 

8 Further  on  tliis  aspect  oC  the  case,  which  has  merely  an  academic  interest  now, 
see  articles  in  the  Law  Titnei,  xdx,  xtg  (ist  June,  1895)  and  Law  Journal,  xXX,  285 
(4tb  May,  1895).  The  arbitrary  dsdoctioo  as  to  the  competency  of  witnesses  in 
crimmal  trials  was  abolished  by  the  Criminal  Evidence  Act,  1898  (61  & 62  Viet.  c. 
36),  which  provided  that  subject  to  certain  qualifications,  every  person  charged  with 
an  ofience  should  be  a competent  witness  Cor  the  de^ce  at  every  stage  of  the 
proceedings  where  the  person  so  charged  was  charged  solely  or  jointly  with  any 
other  person. 


72 


Introduction. 


guest  at  a hotel,  no  impropriety  had  ever  occurred  between  them" 
The  counts  relating  to  Mavor  were  consequently  struck  out  o£  the 
indictment  at  the  judge’s  direction.  The  most  that  could  be  proved 
against  the  prisoner  in  respect  of  this  young  man  was  that  Wilde 
had  once  given  him  a silver  cigarette  case  with  an  inscription  from 
himself  inside  it.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that,  In  spite  of  Ernest's 
injunction  in  The  Importance  of  Being  Earnest  that  “it  is  a very 
ungentlemanly  thing  to  read  a private  cigarette  case,”  the  object  in 
question  was  passed  both  to  the  bench  and  jury  box  where  it  was 
examined  with  close  attention.  For  the  rest,  apart  from  formal 
police  witnesses,  evidence  by  way  of  general  corroboration  of  the 
offences  specifically  alleged  was  given  by  various  hotel  servants 
and  employees.  This  depended  upon  the  latter’s  recollection  of 
isolated  incidents  which  had  taken  place  more  than  two  years  pre- 
viously and  which,  so  far  at  least  as  concerned  those  alleged  to  have 
occurred  at  the  Savoy  Hotel,  it  was  surprising  did  not  form  the 
subject  of  any  complaint  or  comment  at  the  time. 

On  going  into  the  witness  box  early  on  the  fourth  day  of  the 
trial  Wilde  made  no  attempt  to  show  off,  as  he  had  done  on  the 
previous  occasion.  He  answered  his  counsel’s  questions  quiedy 
and  deliberately,  strenuously  denying  all  the  allegations  of  indecent 
behaviour  which  had  been  made  against  him  on  the  three  pre- 
ceding days  and  also  at  the  Queensbetry  trial.  He  also  slotrd  up 
well  before  Charles  Gill.  Here  the  climax  to  an  otherwise  unspec- 
tacular cross-examination  was  reached  when  Wilde,  in  what 
amounted  to  a short  unrehearsed  speech  of  great  power  and 
emotion,  gave  his  well  known  and  oft-quoted  description  of  “the 
love  that  dare  not  speak  its  name.”  Wilde's  words  made  an 

B It  is  scarcely  siupribiag  that  witoKS  should  have  been  dropped  by  the 
prosecution  after  this  performance.  Although  he  docs  not  actually  mention  him  by 
name,  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  in  his  Autobiography  (2ad  edn.,  at  p>  119),  relates 
how  he  met  Mavor  in  the  corridor  at  Bow  Street  Police  Court  while  he  was 
waiting  to  give  evidence  on  the  first  occasion.  * 'Surely  you  are  not  going  to 
give  evidence  against  Oscar?”  said  Douglas.  "Well,  what  can  I 
answered  Mavor,  looking  round  in  a frightened  manner.  "I  daren't  refuse 
to  give  evidence  now.  They  got  a statement  out  of  me."  "For  God's  sake," 
rejoined  Douglas,  "remember  you  are  a gentleman  and  a public  school  boy.  Don't 
put  yourself  on  a level  with  scum  like  [Wood]  and  [Atkins] . When  counsel  asks 
you  the  questions,  deny  the  whole  thing,  and  say  you  made  the  statement  because 
you  were  frightened  by  the  police.  They  can't  do  anything  to  you."  "All  right,” 
said  Mavor,  grabbing  Douglas’s  hand.  "I'll  do  what  you  say.” 

73 


Oscar  Wilde. 


unforgettable  impression  upon  all  who  heard  them  and,  although 
the  spontaneous  outburst  of  applause  which  they  caused  was 
promptly  suppressed  by  the  judge,  their  effect  was  not  lost  upon 
the  jury.  Indeed  it  was  probably  this  factor  more  than  any  other 
in  the  proceedings  that  produced  the  jury’s  ultimaie  disagreement 
on  a verdict. 

Undoubted  rhetorical  heights  were  also  reached  by  Sir  Edward 
Clarke  in  his  closing  address  to  the  jury,  which  it  took  him  nearly 
two  hours  to  deliver.  His  words  were  chosen  with  great  care,  and 
he  contrasted  in  most  telling  language  the  instinctive  shrinking  of 
the  guilty  victims  of  the  blackmailers’  frightful  trade  and  the  open- 
ness with  which  Wilde  had  himself  sought  to  have  the  charges 
against  him  investigated  and  the  courage  which  had  brought  him 
into  the  witness-box.  The  most  moving  passages  of  all  were  uttered 
in  his  peroration  when  he  implored  the  jurors  to  dismiss  from  their 
minds  what  was  irrelevant  to  the  case  and  in  their  resulting  delibera- 
tions to  gratily  many  thousands  of  hopes  by  exonerating  one  of  the 
most  renowned  and  accomplished  men  of  letters  of  that  day.  This 
effort  on  Clarke’s  part  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  his  client  in  the 
dock  and,  as  a murmur  of  appreciation  ran  round  the  Court,  the 
prisoner  wrote  a note  of  thanks  which  was  handed  down  to  his 
learned  counsel. 

Most  of  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  of  this  trial  was  occupied 
by  Mr.  Justice  Charles  in  his  summing-up.  The  judge  analysed 
the  evidence  with  great  care,  and  he  was  absolutely  fair  to  both 
prisoners,  though  noticeably  favourable  towards  Wilde.  After 
an  absence  of  over  three  and  a half  hours  the  jury  found  the 
prisoners  not  guilty  on  the  charges  relating  to  Atkins,  but  were 
unable  to  reach  a verdict  on  the  remainder.  Wilde  was  thus 
acquitted  on  eight  out  of  the  total  twenty-five  counts,  the  three 
conspiracy  counts  having  been  abandoned  by  the  prosecudon,  the 
two  counts  relating  to  Mavor  having  been  struck  out  by  the  judge, 
and  a verdict  on  the  three  relating  to  Atkins  having  been  given  in 
his  favour.  Next  day  one  of  the  morning  newspapers  gave  what 
purported  to  be  exact  details  of  the  voting  in  the  jury  room, 
although  neither  prisoner  had  as  yet  been  convicted  of  any  offence. 
Indeed,  with  two  courageous  exceptions,  the  press  continued 
uniformly  hostile  to  Wilde.  "Anything  more  cruel,  heartless  and 
74 


Introduction. 


reckless  than  the  publication  o£  these  details,”  to  quote  one  of  these 
exceptions,  “we  are  happy  to  see  is  rare  in  the  journalism  of 
to-day.”  As  Charles,  J.,  remarked  in  his  summing-up,  for  weelcs 
it  had  been  impossible  to  open  a newspaper  without  reading  some 
reference  to  the  case,  and  especially  to  Oscar  Wilde.  Hence  the 
judge  had  expressed  the  hope  that  the  jury  would  not  allow  any 
preconceived  opinions  to  weigh  with  them  in  trying  two  persons, 
both  of  good  education,  one  of  them  being  a man  of  high  intel- 
lectual gifts. 

But  in  spite  of  the  judge’s  honest  attempt  at  impartiality,  the 
scales  were  unquestionably  weighted  against  the  man  of  high 
intellectual  gifts.  The  evidence  against  Taylor,  though  technically 
not  evidence  against  his  fellow  prisoner,  was  in  the  circumstances 
bound  to  influence  the  jury’s  minds  against  Wilde.  Taylor  had 
managed  to  run  through  a fortune  of  ;C45,ooo,  dissipating  most  of 
it  on  various  forms  of  loose  living;  he  was  known  to  be  a habitual 
associate  of  youths  of  the  lowest  class;  his  perfumed  rooms,  which 
it  was  alleged  were  always  artificially  illuminated,  had  been  under 
police  observation  for  some  time;  and  he  had  actually  been  arrested 
during  a police  raid  on  an  undesirable  house  in  Fitzroy  Square 
where  he  had  been  among  those  found  on  the  premises.  The 
bracketing  of  Wilde’s  name  with  that  of  Taylor  was  a great  mis 
fortune  for  Wilde,  both  in  this  trial  when  he  was  tried  jointly 
with  him,  and  (as  will  be  seen)  in  the  subsequent  trial  when, 
though  tried  separately,  his  case  was  heard  immediately  after 
Taylor’s.  In  the  former  trial  the  prisoners  should  also  have  been 
tried  separately.  Had  this  been  so,  and  had  the  jurors’  minds  not 
clearly  been  impregnated  with  prejudicial  press  comments,  there 
is  a strong  chance  that  on  the  evidence  offered  by  the  prosecution 
he  would  have  been  acquitted  on  all  the  counts  with  which  he  was 
charged. 

As  soon  as  the  jury  had  been  discharged,  Sir  Edward  Clarke 
applied  for  Wilde  to  be  released  on  bail  pending  his  re-trial. 
Charles,  J.,  felt  bound  to  refuse  the  application,  but  intimated  that 
he  could  not  object  to  its  renewal  before  a judge  in  chambers. 
Accordingly,  next  day,  3rd  May,  Willie  Mathews  made  application 
75 


Oscar  Wilde. 


to  Baron  Pollock/  submitting  that  in  cases  of  misdemeanour  the 
judge  had  no  option  but  was  bound  to  grant  bail  by  virtue  of  a 
statute  of  Charles  11.  Mathews  offered  two  sureties  in  the  sum  of 
;£iooo  each,  but  Pollock,  B.,  having  consulted  with  his  brother, 
Charles,  J.,  fixed  the  total  amount  at  ;£50OO,  directuig  that  Wilde 
must  give  his  personal  security  for  £2^00  and  find  two  sureties  in 
;£i250  each.  In  due  course  this  was  done,  the  sureties  to  come 
forward  being  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry’s  eldest  surviving  son, 
Lord  Douglas  of  Hawick,"  and  the  J^ev.  Stewart  Headlam,  a 
Church  of  England  clergyman,  who,  while  quite  unknown  to 
Wilde,  had  admired  his  bearing  during  the  trial  and  sympathized 
with  him  for  his  treatment  by  the  press  and  public  generally.® 

Some  further  delay  was  occasioned  by  the  need  for  the  police 
to  make  the  customary  inquiries  about  the  sureties,  but  eventually, 
on  the  formal  application  of  Mr.  Travers  Humphreys  to  the  Bow 

^Sir  Chaites  Gdward  Pollack  tiSaviSgy)  was  appoioted  Karon  of  Uir  Clourt 
of  Exdiccjucr  in  i8n.  The  consondauon  of  tlic  Couiu  effected  liy  ilie  liiduanire 
Acts  in  1875  gave  him  the  status  of  a judge  o{  the  High  Coint,  but  (lid  not  alter 
his  official  designation.  He  wns  the  last  surviving  holder  o[  the  nudeni  jiidicul 
title  cf  baron. 

* Percy  Sholto  (DouglaOi  Lord  Douglai  of  Hawick  and  Tibl>crs 
succeeded  hii  father  us  ninth  Murque^^  lu  Quceni>berry  in  lyoo.  He  had  .1  siitne' 
what  chequered  career,  whicli  ended  in  penury  in  South  Africa. 

® This  kind-henrted  parson,  who  wa5  threatened  with  stoning  by  a furious  mob 
outside  his  houbc  in  Bloomsbury,  published  the  following  statement  after  Wilde’s 
conviction!— 

“ I became  bail  for  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  on  public  grounds:  I felt  that  the 
action  of  a large  section  of  the  press,  of  the  theatrical  managers  at  whose 
houses  his  plays  were  runninf,  and  of  his  publisher,  was  calculated  to  pre- 
judice his  case  before  his  criaf  had  even  begun. 

I was  a surety,  not  for  his  character,  but  for  his  appearance  in  Court 
to  stand  his  trial.  I had  very  little  personal  knowledge  of  him  at  the  time; 
I think  I had  only  met  him  twicej  but  my  confidence  in  lus  honour  and 
manliness  has  been  fully  justified  by  the  fact  that  (if  rumour  be  correct),  not- 
withstanding strong  inaucements  to  die  contrary,  be  stayed  in  England  and 
faced  his  trial. 

Now  that  the  trial  is  over,  and  Mr.  Wilde  has  been  convicted  and 
sentenced,  I still  feel  that  I was  absolutely  right  in  the  course  I took,  and 
I hope  that,  after  he  has  gone  dut>ugh  his  sentence,  Mr.  Wilde  may  be 
able,  with  the  help  of  his  friends,  to  do  good  work  in  his  fresh  Wit”— The 
Church  Reformer,  ist  June,  1895. 

Further  details  about  Stewart  He^am  (1847-1924)  will  he  found  in  the 
biography  by  F.  G.  Bettany  (1926).  He  was  an  early  member  of  the  Fabian 
Society  and  a vigorous  pioneer  of  elementary  education.  Asked  by  a heckler  at  a 
London  School  Board  electioii  meeting  whether  he  was  not  "the  man  that  went 
bail  for  Uie  notorious  convict  Wilde,’’  Headlam  replied  amid  cheers:  ’’Yes,  I am 
die  man,  and  by  the  laws  of  England  everyone  is  reckoned  innocent  until  he  Is 
proved  guilty  ’’ 

76 


Introduction. 


Suect  magistrate  on  7th  May,  Wilde  was  released  in  the  bad 
agreed.  He  had  been  in  custody  for  just  over  a month,  having 
been  "bored  and  sick  to  the  death  of  this  place,”  as  he  described 
Holloway.  "Oh,”  he  exclaimed,  "I  hoped  all  will  come  well, 
and  that  I can  go  back  to  Art  and  Life.”  But,  as  it  happened,  he 
had  less  than  three  weeks  of  freedom  ahead  of  him. 

X 

From  Bow  Street  Police  Court,  where  the  formalities  for  bail  were 
completed,  Wilde  drove  with  Lord  Douglas  of  Hawick,  who  was 
one  of  his  sureties,  to  the  Midland  Hotel,  St.  Pancras,  where  two 
rooms  had  been  reserved  for  him.  He  stayed  there  for  several  hours 
and  was  about  to  sit  down  to  dinner  with  Lord  Douglas  when  the 
manager  burst  into  their  sitting-room.  “You  are  Oscar  Wilde,  1 
believe.”  On  Wilde’s  admitting  his  identity  the  manager  told  him 
he  must  leave  at  once.  He  now  realized  that  the  implacable  Queens- 
berry  was  on  his  trail  again.  The  Marquess  had  hired  a gang  of 
roughs  and  instructed  them  to  follow  Wilde  and  see  that  he  did  not 
secure  admittance  to  any  hotel  in  town.  They  did  indeed  hunt 
Wilde  from  hotel  to  hotel  and  managed  to  achieve  their  object- 
even  in  such  surburban  localities  as  Kilburn  and  Netting  Hill, 
where  their  unfortunate  quarry  imagined  he  would  not  be  known. 
Towards  midnight,  however,  they  lost  sight  of  him,  no  doubt  by 
reason  of  their  inability  to  resist  the  temptations  afforded  by  the 
hospitality  of  the  various  establishments  they  had  visited.  At  this 
time  Wilde’s  mother  was  living  with  her  other  son  Willie  in 
Oakley  Street,  Chelsea,  and  it  was  to  the  door  of  their  house  that 
Wilde  at  length  staggered  in  a state  of  complete  physical  exhaustion. 
"Give  me  shelter,  Willie,”  he  gasped  as  his  astonished  brother 
opened  the  door.  “Let  me  lie  on  the  floor  or  I shall  die  in  the 
streets.”  With  these  words  he  collapsed  across  the  threshold, 

. as  Willie  Wilde  put  it,  “like  a wounded  stag.” 

Oscar  Wilde  remained  in  Oakley  Street  for  the  next  few  days, 
feeling  ill  and  miserable.  This  family  atmosphere  had  the  worst 
possible  psycholo^cal  effect  upon  him.  Both  his  eccentric  mother 
and  his  brother,  a drunken  ne’er-do-well,  kept  telling  him  that  he 
must  behave  like  an  Irish  gentleman  and  face  the  music.  “This 
77  ■ 


Oscar  Wilde. 


house  is  depressing,"  he  complained.  “Willie  makes  such  a merit 
of  pving  me  shelter.  He  means  well,  I suppose,  but  it  is  all  dread- 
ful” His  staunch  defender  and  biographer,  Robert  Harborough 
Sherard,  who  came  over  from  Paris  to  see  him  at  this  time,  found 
the  wretched  man  lying  on  a camp  bed  in  a poorly  furnished  room, 
in  which  everything  was  in  great  disorder.  His  face  was  flushed 
and  swollen  and  his  voice  broken.  “Why  have  you  brought  me  no 
poison  from  Paris?"  he  kept  repeating.  Downstairs  Willie  Wilde 
was  incapable  of  understanding  hu  brilliant  but  erring  brother. 
"Oscar  was  not  a man  of  bad  character,”  he  naively  told  Mr. 
Bernard  Shaw.  "You  could  have  trusted  him  with  a woman  any- 
where." 

The  news  of  Wilde's  misadventures  was  now  becoming  generally 
known,  and  had  even  passed  beyond  the  channel.  On  15th  May 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas  wrote  from  his  enforced  exile  in  Paris : “The 
proprietor  is  very  nice  and  most  sympathetic;  he  asked  after  you  at 
once  and  expressed  his  regret  and  indignadon  at  the  treatmenr  you 
had  received."*  But  it  was  for  two  ladies  to  show  the  greatest 
feeling  of  kindness  towards  the  fallen  writer.  One  of  these  good 
Samaritans,  Mrs.  Adcla  Schuster,  who  had  heard  of  his  threatened 
bankruptcy,  sent  him  a cheque  for  ,£1000.  The  other  was  herself 
a clever  writer  and  an  old  friend  whom  Wilde  used  to  address 
affectionately  as  “ The  Sphinx."  She  and  her  husband  offered  him 
the  hospitality  of  their  comfortable  house  in  Courtfield  Gardens, 
where  he  could  rest  and  be  quiet  until  the  beginning  of  the  next 
trial. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  Treasury  offices  in  Whitehall,  preparations 
were  going  ahead  for  the  new  prosecution.  It  had  already  leaked 
out  that  this  would  be  led,  not  by  Charles  Gill,  as  at  the  previous 
trial,  but  by  Sir  Frank  Lockwood,  the  Solicitor-General.**  Thus  it 
appeared  as  if  the  Crown  was  now  determined  to  make  every  effort 
towards  securing  a conviction.  To  one  member  of  the  Bar  at  least 


1 For  Lord  Alfred  Douglas'i  detailed  views  on  this  and  other  aspects  of  the 
Wilde  case,  see  below,  Appendix  D. 

2 Sir  Prank  Lockwooa  (1847-1897J  was  appointed  Solicitor-General  by  Lord 
Rosebery  in  1894.  Amongst  other  thins  he  was  a clever  caricaturist  and  contri- 
butor to  Punch.  His  comparatively  carty  death  cut  short  a fine  career  and  was  a 
great  loss  to  the  English  bar.  See  the  excellent  biography  by  his  friend  Augustine 
Blrrell  (1898). 

78 


Introduction. 


luch  a course  did  not  commend  itself.  This  was  Edward  Carson, 
who  had  defended  Queensberry  at  the  first  trial,  but  who  had 
refused  to  have  anything  m do  with  the  subsequent  proceedings 
against  Wilde. 

The  great  Irish  advocate  went  to  Lockwood.  “Cannot  you  let  up 
on  the  fellow  now?”  he  said.  “He  has  sufiered  a great  deal." 

"I  would,"  replied  Lockwood,  “but  we  cannot : we  dare  not : it 
would  at  once  be  said,  both  in  England  and  abroad  that  owing  to 
the  names  mentioned  in  Queensberry’s  letters  we  were  forced  to 
abandon  it.” 

The  Solicitor-General  might  have  added  that  the  name  of  his 
wife's  nephew  had  also  cropped  up  more  than  once  in  the 
two  previous  trials  as  having  been  one  of  Taylor’s  notorious 
circle  of  acquaintances.  The  circumstances  were  extremely  unfor- 
moate  for  Wilde.  Indeed,  but  for  their  existence,  the  Crown  might 
conceivably  have  abandoned  the  prosecution  in  the  face  of  the 
jury’s  recent  disagreement,  while  at  the  same  time  a strong  semi- 
official hint  might  have  been  ^ven  to  Wilde  that  he  should  leave 
the  country  for  a time. 

As  it  was,  Wilde  was  pressed  by  most  of  his  friends  to  "jump" 
his  bail  and  go  abroad.  Lord  Douglas  of  Hawick  told  his  co-surety, 
the  Rev.  Stewart  Headlam,  that  he  would  hold  himself  liable  for 
the  whole  amount  and  that  he  hoped  Wilde  would  bolt.  "It  will 
practically  ruin  me  if  I lose  all  that  money  at  the  present  moment," 
he  said,  "but  if  there  is  a chance  even  of  a conviction,  for  God’s 
sake  let  him  go.”  Frank  Harris  is  said  to  have  had  arrangements 
in  hand  for  getting  him  away  in  a private  yacht.  Wilde's  kind 
hostess,  “The  Sphinx,”  added  her  voice  to  the  others,  and  even  the 
unformnate  Constance  Wilde  came  round  to  Courtfield  Gardens 
and  pleaded  with  her  husband  in  tears.  But  their  entreaties  were  all 
in  vain.  Wilde  obstinately  refused  to  budge.  He  would  not  “run 
away"  and  “hide”  and  “let  down”  his  sureties.  "I  could  not  bear 
life  if  I were  to  flee,”  he  said.  “I  cannot  sec  myself  slinking  about 
the  Continent,  a fugitive  from  justice."  More  than  once  he 
remarked  to  Headlam : “I  have  given  my  word  to  you  and  tp  my 
mother,  and  that  is  enough,”  To  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  who  had 
been  the  unwitting  cause  of  his  misfortunes,  he  wrote:  “A  dis- 
honoured name,  a hunted  life  are  not  for  me  to  whom  you  have 
"79 


Oscar  Wilde. 


been  revealed  on  tlwt  hifili  hill  where  beautilul  things  are  trans- 
figured.” And  besides  that  he  considered  he  had,  as  he  put  it,  “a 
good  chance  o£  being  acquitted.” 

One  day  when  Wilde  was  still  at  his  brother’s  house  in  Oakley 
Street,  Frank  Harris  called  in  a hansom  and  persuaded  him  to 
come  out  to  lunch.  They  avoided  his  old  haunts  like  the  CaK 
Royal,  where  he  might  have  been  recognized  .and  insulted,  going 
instead  to  a quiet  restaurant  in  Great  Portland  Street.  Over  coSee 
the  two  men  discussed  the  way  the  trial  had  gone.  Harris  put 
forward  the  view  that  an  English  jury  with  normal  healthy  instincts 
could  be  expected  not  to  convict  a man  solely  on  the  sworn  state- 
ments of  proved  blackmailers.  The  evidence  which  Harris  felt  had 
weighed  most  with  them  was  that  of  the  youth  Shelley  and  the 
various  Savoy  Hotel  employees,  particularly  the  chambermaid 
Cotter,  since  these  witnesses  were  none  of  them  connected  with  the 
blackmailer’s  loathsome  businass. 

To  Harris’s  intense  surprise  Wilde  declared  that  tlie  testimony 
of  the  hotel  employees  was  wrong.  “They  arc  mislakcn,  Frank," 
he  said.  ‘‘It  was  not  I they  spoke  about  at  the  Savoy.  It  was  Bone 
Douglas.  1 was  never  bold  enough.  I went  to  see  Bosie  in  the 
morning  in  his  room." 

‘‘Thank  God,”  explained  Harris,  “but  why  didn’t  Sir  Edward 
Clarke  bring  that  out?” 

‘‘He  wanted  to  but  I would  not  let  him.  I told  him  he  must 
not.  I must  be  true  to  Bosie.  I could  not  let  him." 

’ ‘‘But  he  must,”  said  Harris.  “At  any  rale  if  he  does  not  I will. 
I have  three  weeks  and  in  that  three  weeks  I am  going  to  find  the 
chambermaid.  I am  going  to  get  a plan  of  your  room  and  Bosie’s 
room,  and  I am  going  to  make  her  understand  that  she  was  mis- 
taken. She  probably  remembered  you  because  of  your  size.  She 
mistook  you  for  the  guilty  person.” 

“But  what  good  is  it  Frank?  What  good  is  it?”  asked  Wilde. 
"Even  if  you  convinced  the  chambermaid  and  she  retracted,  there 
would  still  be  Shelley,  and  the  judge  laid  stress  on  Shelley’s 
evidence  as  untainted.” 

Harris  observed  that  Shelley  appeared  in  the  witness  box  as  an 
accomplice  and  that  his  testimony  consequently  required  corrobora- 
tion, There  was  not  a particle  of  corroboration,  he  went  on.  Sir 
So 


OSCAR  WILDE 

(Prom  a contemporarj  photograph) 


LORD  ALFRED  DOUGLAS 
(horn  *1  contcmpoiaij  pholognph) 


Introduction. 


Edward  Clarke  might  have  succeeded  in  having  this  part  of  the 
case  withdrawn  from  the  jury  like  the  counts  concerning  Mavor, 
had  not  the  issue  been  complicated  by  the  conspiracy  charges. 
“You  see,”  he  added  re-assuringly,  “Shelley's  evidence  too  will  be 
ruled  out  at  the  next  trial.” 

“Oh,  Frank  I”  aied  Wilde.  “You  talk  with  passion  and  con- 
viction, as  if  I were  innocent.” 

“But  you  are  innocent,  aren’t  you?”  asked  Harris  in  amazement. 

“No,  Frank,”  replied  the  other.  "I  thought  you  knew  that  all 
along.” 

For  some  seconds  Harris  seemed  stupified  by  this  confession. 
Then  he  said:  “No,  I did  not  know.  I did  not  believe  the 
accusation.  I did  not  believe  it  for  a moment.”® 

XI 

The  secret  of  Wilde's  stay  with  “The  Sphinx”  and  her  husband 
was  well  kept.  All  the  servants,  who  were  asked,  gladly  agreed 
to  look  after  him,  excepting  only  the  coachman,  who  was  not  told 
but  sent  away  instead  on  a holiday  lest  he  might  talk  in  the  neigh- 
bouring public  houses.  On  this  occasion  Wilde  certainly  seems 
to  have  behaved  like  a model  guest,  remaining  in  his  rooms, 
upstairs,  actually  the  nursery,  all  day,  and  only  coming  down  for 
(hnner  in  the  evening  with  the  rest  of  the  household. 

He  remained  at  Courtfield  Gardens  until  noth  May,  the  date  on 
which  he  was  due  to  surrender  to  his  bail  at  the  Old  Bailey.  For 
the  duration  of  the  trial  he  returned  to  his  brother’s  house  in  Oakley 
Street.  Among  his  visitors  during  this  brief  interlude  of  freedom 
was  the  brilliant  French  painter  Count  Henri  de  Toulouse-Lautrec, 
who  at  a single  sitting  was  able  to  sketch  against  a foggy  back- 

s Th»  inddcDt  was  later  described  bf  Harris  in  bis  book  oa  Wilde  (I, 
but  the  passages  italidzed  above  were  omitted  £or  obvious  reasons  from  the  account 
given  b the  English  edition.  Mr.  Hesketh  Pearson  rejects  the  story  b his  recent 
biography  (at  p.  308);  but,  sbee  substance  was  coufirmed  by  'Wilde  himself  b 
the  suppressed  part  of  De  Profundis  as  well  as  by  E.  H.  Sherard,  I feel  it  is  entitled 
to  belief.  See  below,  p.  98. 

F 81 


Oscar  Wilde. 


ground  of  Big  Ben  and  the  River  Thames  the  vivid  porirait  which 
is  reproduced  in  the  fiontispiecc  to  this  book.* 

No  fresh  bdictments  having  been  preferred,  it  was  unnecessary 
for  the  case  to  go  before  a grand  jury  a second  time,  although 
several  counts  had  been  dropped  from  the  original  indictment  in 
addition  to  those  charging  Wilde  and  Taylor  with  conspiracy  on 
which  a verdict  of  not  guilty  had  been  returned  by  the  jury  at  the 
previous  trial.  By  special  arrangement  the  cases  of  the  two 
defendants  were  called  on  the  opening  day  of  the  sessions.  The 
presiding  judge  was  the  seventy-seven-ycars-old  Sir  Alfred  Wills, 
a person  of  considerable  and  varied  attainments,  being  a well-known 
mountaineer,  a scholar  in  classics  and  mathematics  as  well  as  in 
law,  and  the  editor  of  a learned  work  on  circumstantial  evidence,’ 
Sir  Frank  Lockwood,  Q.C.,  M.P.,  along  with  Mr.  Charles  Gill  and 
Mr.  Horace  Avory,  appeared  for  the  prosecution,  Wilde  and 
Taylor  were  represented  by  tlie  same  counsel  as  at  the  preceding 
trial. 

As  soon  as  the  two  defendants  had  taken  their  places  in  the  dock 
and  their  pleas  of  not  guilty  had  been  formally  recorded,  Sir 
Edward  Clarke  applied  to  the  judge  that  they  should  be  tried 
separately.  He  pointed  out  that,  since  the  conspiracy  charges  had 
been  withdrawn,  there  was  no  single  count  smnding  in  the  indict- 
ment on  which  both  prisoners  could  be  convicted  together. 
Although  strenuously  opposed  by  the  Solicitor-General,  his  applica- 
tion was  granted  by  the  bench.  Lockwood  thereupon  intimated  his 
intention  of  taking  Taylor’s  case  first.  It  was  now  Clarke’s  turn 
to  protest.  He  urged  that  his  client’s  case  should  have  priority 
since  his  name  stood  first  on  the  indictment  and  the  first  count  was 
directed  against  him.  “There  are  reasons,  I am  sure,  present  to 
your  lordship’s  mind,"  he  went  on,  "why  it  would  be  unjust  to 
Mr.  Wilde  that  his  case  should  be  tried  after,  and  immediately 
after,  the  other  defendant.”  Lockwood  again  intervened,  and  in 

1 The  portrait  was  used  later,  ia  the  form  of  a lithograph  reproduedoo,  as  part 
of  the  piograinme  when  SalomS  was  first  performed  in  Pans  in  i8q6,  while  Wilde 
was  still  in  prison.  On  Wilde  aod  Toulouse-Lautrec,  see  particularly  Maurice 
Joyant,  Henri  de  Toulouse-Lautrec  (Paris,  rpad),  pp,  175-178. 

s Sir  Alfred  Wills  (1828-1912)  was  appointed  a judge  of  the  Queen’s  Boich 
IMviaon  of  the  High  Court  in  1884.  He  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Alpine 
Club  In  1858  and  subsequently  became  its  president. 

82 


Introduction. 


spite  of  Clarke’s  repeated  protests,  Mr.  Justice  Wills  ruled  that  the 
prosecution  could  please  itself  in  the  matter.  His  lordship  added 
that  he  was  sure  both  the  jury  and  himself  would  take  care  that 
the  one  trial  should  have  no  influence  on  the  other.  Meanwhile, 
however,  he  agreed  that  Wilde  should  again  be  released  on  bail  as 
before.  Some  hours  elapsed  before  the  sureties  could  be  found 
and  it  was  not  until  the  afternoon  that  Wilde,  who  had  been  taken 
below  to  the  cells,  was  eventually  permitted  to  leave  the  building. 

The  point  of  Clarke’s  remark  soon  became  painfully  clear. 
Taylor  put  up  a good  showing  in  the  face  of  severe  and,  as  his 
defending  counsel  thought,  unfair  tactics  on  the  part  of  the 
Solicitor-General,  but  his  guilt  was  clear  almost  from  the  beginning. 
The  inferences  to  be  drawn  by  the  jury  from  his  admission  that  a 
series  of  low-class  youths  had  stayed  in  his  rooms  and  that  they  had 
shared  the  same  bed  together  were  quite  inescapable.  The  judge’s 
summing-up,  which  began  immediately  after  the  luncheon  adjourn- 
ment on  the  following  day,  was  thoroughly  unfavourable  to  the 
prisoner,  and  after  an  absence  of  less  than  an  hour  the  jury  returned 
a verdict  of  guilty  on  the  two  principal  counts.  Wills,  J.,  thereupon 
aimounced  that  he  would  postpone  sentence  until  after  the  charges 
against  Wilde  had  been  heard.  Wilde,  who  had  been  waiting  in 
another  part  of  the  building  with  his  sureties,  for  most  of  the  day, 
only  left  when  he  was  informed  of  the  Court’s  decision  not  to  pro- 
ceed with  his  case  undl  the  following  morning. 

Among  the  spectators  in  Court,  who  heard  the  news  of  Taylor’s 
conviction  with  intense  pleasure  was  Lord  Queensberry.  On  leaving 
the  Old  Bailey,  the  Marquess  drove  to  the  West  End,  where  he  was 
staying  in  an  hotel.  He  stopped  first  at  the  bottom  of  St.  James’s 
Street  where  he  got  out  and  went  into  the  post  office  to  send  the 
following  telegram  to  his  daughter-in-law.  Lady  Douglas  of 
Hawick,  who  was  married  to  his  son  Percy. 

To  Lady  Douglas:  Must  congratulate  on  verdict.  Can- 
not on  Percy’s  appearance.  Looked  like  a dug  up  corpse. 
Fear  too  much  madness  of  kissing.  Taylor  guilty.  Wilde’s 
turn  tomorrow. 


83 


Quesnsbskky. 


Oscar  Wilde. 


ground  of  Big  Ben  and  the  River  Thames  the  vivid  poruait  which 
is  reproduced  in  die  frondspiece  to  this  book.' 

No  fresh  indictments  having  been  preferred,  it  was  unnecessary 
for  the  case  to  go  before  a grand  jury  a second  time,  although 
several  counts  had  been  dropped  from  the  original  indictment  in 
addition  to  those  charging  Wilde  and  Taylor  with  conspiracy  on 
which  a verdict  of  not  guilty  had  been  returned  by  the  jury  at  the 
previous  trial.  By  special  arrangement  the  cases  of  the  two 
defendants  were  called  on  the  opening  day  of  the  sessions.  The 
presiding  judge  was  the  seventy-seven-years-old  Sir  Alfred  Wills, 
a person  of  considerable  and  varied  attainments,  being  a well-known 
mountaineer,  a scholar  in  classics  and  mathematics  as  well  as  in 
law,  and  the  editor  of  a learned  work  on  circumstantial  evidence.’ 
Sir  Frank  Lockwood,  Q.C.,  M.P.,  along  with  Mr.  Charles  Gill  and 
Mr.  Horace  Avory,  appeared  for  the  prosecution.  Wilde  and 
Taylor  were  represented  by  the  same  counsel  as  at  the  preceding 
trial. 

As  soon  as  dte  two  defendants  had  taken  their  places  in  the  dock 
and  their  pleas  of  not  guilty  hatl  been  formally  recorded,  Sir 
Edward  Clarke  applied  to  the  judge  that  they  should  be  tried 
separately.  He  pointed  out  that,  since  the  conspiracy  charges  had 
been  withdrawn,  there  was  no  angle  count  standing  in  the  indict- 
ment on  which  both  prisoners  could  be  convicted  together. 
Although  strenuously  opposed  by  the  Solicitor-General,  his  applica- 
tion was  granted  by  the  bench.  Lockwood  thereupon  intimated  his 
intention  of  taking  Taylor's  case  first.  It  was  now  Clarke’s  turn 
to  protest.  He  urged  that  his  client's  case  should  have  priority 
since  his  name  stood  first  on  the  indictment  and  the  first  count  was 
directed  against  him.  “There  are  reasons,  I am  sure,  present  to 
your  lordship’s  mind,”  he  went  on,  “why  it  would  be  unjust  to 
Mr.  Wilde  that  his  case  should  be  tried  after,  and  immediately 
after,  the  other  defendant.”  Lockwood  again  intervened,  and  m 

^ The  portrait  ivas  used  later,  in  ferm  of  a lithograph  reproduction,  as  part 
of  the  programme  when  Salom4  was  first  performed  in  Paris  in  1896,  while  Wilde 
was  still  in  prison.  On  Wilde  and  Toulouse-Lautrec,  see  particularly  Maurice 
Joyant,  Henrt  de  Toulouse-Lautre/;  (Paiu,  pp.  175-278. 

^ Sir  Alfred  Wills  (1828-19x2)  waa  appoint^  a judge  of  the  Queen's  Bench 
Division  of  the  High  (^urt  in  1884.  He  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Alpine 
Club  in  1858  and  subsequently  became  its  president. 

82 


Introduction. 


spite  of  Clarke’s  repeated  protests,  Mr.  Justice  Wills  ruled  that  the 
prosecution  could  please  itself  in  the  matter.  His  lordship  added 
that  he  was  sure  both  the  jury  and  himself  would  take  care  that 
the  one  trial  should  have  no  influence  on  the  other.  Meanwhile, 
however,  he  agreed  that  Wilde  should  again  be  released  on  bail  as 
before.  Some  hours  elapsed  before  the  sureties  could  be  found 
and  it  was  not  until  the  afternoon  that  Wilde,  who  had  been  taken 
below  to  the  cells,  was  eventually  permitted  to  leave  the  building. 

The  point  of  Clarke's  remark  soon  became  painfully  clear. 
Taylor  put  up  a good  showing  in  the  face  of  severe  and,  as  his 
defending  counsel  thought,  un&ir  tactics  on  the  part  of  the 
Solicitor-General,  but  his  guilt  was  clear  almost  from  the  beginning. 
The  inferences  to  be  drawn  by  the  jury  from  his  admission  that  a 
series  of  low-class  youths  had  stayed  in  his  rooms  and  that  they  had 
shared  the  same  bed  together  were  quite  inescapable.  The  judge’s 
summing-up,  which  began  immediately  after  the  luncheon  adjourn- 
ment on  the  following  day,  was  thoroughly  unfavourable  to  the 
prisoner,  and  after  an  absence  of  less  than  an  hour  the  jury  returned 
a verdict  of  guilty  on  the  two  prindpal  counts.  Wills,  J.,  thereupon 
announced  that  he  would  postpone  sentence  until  after  the  charges 
against  Wilde  had  been  heard.  Wilde,  who  had  been  waiting  in 
another  part  of  the  building  with  his  sureties,  for  most  of  the  day, 
only  left  when  he  was  informed  of  the  Court’s  decision  not  to  pro- 
ceed with  his  case  until  the  following  morning. 

Among  the  spectators  in  Court,  who  heard  the  news  of  Taylor’s 
conviction  with  intense  pleasure  was  Lord  Queensberry.  On  leaving 
the  Old  Bailey,  the  Marquess  drove  to  the  West  End,  where  he  was 
staying  in  an  hotel.  He  stopped  first  at  the  bottom  of  St.  James’s 
Street  where  he  got  out  and  went  into  the  post  office  to  send  the 
following  telegram  to  his  daughter-in-law.  Lady  Douglas  of 
Hawick,  who  was  married  to  his  son  Percy. 

To  Lady  Douglas:  Must  congratulate  on  verdict.  Can- 
not on  Percy’s  appearance.  Looked  like  a dug  up  corpse. 
Fear  too  much  madness  of  kissing.  Taylor  guilty.  Wilde’s 
turn  tomorrow. 


83 


Quebnsberry. 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Having  dispatched  this  insulting  communication — ^lic  had  already 
sent  a number  of  similar  messages  Co  his  daughter-in-law  and  other 
members  of  his  family  during  the  preceding  weeks — ^Lord  Queens- 
berry  continued  his  journey  up  St.  James’s  Street,  and  was  a^ut  to 
cross  Piccadilly  in  order  to  reach  his  hotel  in  Albemarle  Street, 
when  he  saw  his  son  Lord  Douglas  of  Hawick  on  tlie  other  side 
of  the  road.  The  two  men  met  at  the  corner  of  Bond  Street,  just 
opposite  Scott’s,  the  hatters.  Lord  Douglas  approached  his  father, 
and  in  a respectful  tone  asked  him  to  stop  writing  obscene  letters 
to  his  wife.  The  Marquess  replied  by  making  a rude  noise  with 
his  lips,  and  in  a moment  the  two  men  were  fighting.  There  was 
some  doubt  as  to  who  struck  the  first  blow,  but  in  the  subsequent 
Police  Court  proceedings  the  magistrate  was  satisfied,  "seeing  that 
the  Marquess  is  a boxer,"  that  Queensberry  did.  A crowd  imme- 
diately collected  and  eventually  the  antagonists  were  separated  by 
Police-Constable  Morrell,  who  was  on  duty  nearby.  The  only  result 
of  the  interference  of  the  arm  of  the  law  was  that  they  crossed  the 
street  to  the  pavement  outside  Stewart’s,  the  confectioners,  and  there 
resumed  their  struggle,  By  this  time  another  constable  had 
appeared  on  the  scene,  and  when  the  two  fighters  had  again  been 
separ.ated  they  were  arrested  and  taken  to  Vine  Street  Police 
Station,  On  being  charged  with  disorderly  conduct,  the  pugnacious 
Marquess  said,  pointing  to  Lord  Douglas : “That  is  my  son  who 
has  bailed  Oscar  Wilde  to-day.  He  has  been  following  me  about, 
and  struck  me  in  Piccadilly.”  "Yes,”  added  the  other,  "that 
occurred  through  my  father  writing  letters  of  a most  disgusting 
character  to  my  wife.’’* 

Next  day  the  two  men  were  bound  over  at  Great  Marlborough 
Street  Police  Court  in  their  own  sureties  of  £$oo  to  keep  the  peace 
for  six  months.  It  was  a matter  of  litde  importance  who  began  the 


3 One  of  these  characteristic  messa^  was  subsequently  revealed  by  the 
Marquess  to  the  London  correspondent  oiThs  Ncur  Yor\  Henud.  In  the  course  of 
an  interview  Queensberry  held  up  to  the  journalist’s  view  a picture,  which  he  had 
cut  out  of  The  lllwtrtaed  London  'News,  showing  a huge  iguanodon  as  it  was 
suppos^  Co  have  appeared  to  its  preimtoric  contemporarieh.  “I  was  struck  with 
a certain  resemblance  lurking  in  this  picture/'  he  remarked.  "I  have  sent  a copy  of 
it  to  0^  son's  wife,  endorsing  it,  as  Car  as  I can  lemember,  as  a possible  ancestor  of 
Oscar  Wilde."  He  Is  also  stated  to  have  sent  a copy  to  Wilde  himself  at  the  Old 
Bailey.  See  Reynold’s  Newspaper,  9th  June,  189$:  and  Dulau’s  Sde  Catalogue  of 
Wilde  IdSS,  (1928),  at  p.  IT9. 

84 


Introduction. 


fight,  said  the  magistrate  in  giving  his  decision,  because  botlr  were 
fighting,  both  were  close  to  policemen,  and  neither  invoked  their 
assistance. 

Meanwhile  the  town  was  placarded  with  Wilde’s  name  as  the 
accused  was  preparing  for  the  final  judicial  ordeal.  “Well,”  his 
friend  Sherard  remarked  to  him,  “you  have  got  your  name  before 
the  public  at  last.” 

Wilde  laughed.  “Yes,”  he  said.  “Nobody  can  pretend  now 
not  to  have  heard  of  it.” 


XII 

WiinE  entered  the  dock  at  the  Old  Bailey  to  stand  his  last  trial  on 
xand  May,  1895.  The  proceedings  on  this  occasion  lasted  for  four 
days,  at  the  end  of  which  the  jury  found  him  guilty  on  all  except 
one  of  the  counts  with  wliich  he  was  charged.  He  was  then  along 
with  Alfred  Taylor  sentenced  to  two  years  imprisonment,  the 
maximum  term  enacted  by  the  statute  under  which  he  was  con- 
victed. Curiously  enough,  the  solitary  count  on  which  the  jury 
found  him  not  guilty  was  the  only  one  on  which  he  was  accused 
of  committing  an  offence  with  a young  man  of  any  social  standing 
and  respectability.  Nevertheless,  it  is  perhaps  not  generaily 
realized  how  near  Sir  Edward  Clarke  was  to  getting  his  client  off 
altogether.  That  an  acquittal  on  all  counts  was  confidently  expected 
by  the  prosecution,  in  spite  of  the  vigour  with  which  the  Crown’s 
case  had  been  pressed,  is  evident  from  the  remark  dropped  by 
Lockwood  to  Clarke  after  dre  jury  had  retired  to  consider  their 
verdict : “You’ll  dine  your  man  in  Paris  to-morrow.” 

Bod)  in  the  content  of  the  evidence  offered  by  the  Crown,  and 
in  the  manner  of  presenting  it,  this  trial  differed  from  its  pre- 
decessor at  which  the  jury  had  disagreed.  In  the  first  place,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  Solicitor-General  led  for  the  prosecution  instead  of 
Charles  Gill.  This  meant  that  the  Crown  had  a decided  advantage 
compared  with  the  previous  trial,  since  Lockwood  as  a Law  Officer 
was  entitled  to  the  last  word  with  the  jury.  The  Crown’s  case  was 
further  strengthened  by  the  contraction  in  scope  of  the  evidence. 
The  defendant  no  longer  had  to  meet  any  charges  of  conspiracy. 
The  counts  relating  to  Atkins  and  Mavor  had  likewise  been 

85 


Oscar  Wilde. 


dropped,  and  with  them  the  testimony  of  iliese  two  youtlis — Atkins, 
because  he  had  perjured  himself  in  the  witness-box,  and  Mayor, 
because  he  had  persisted  in  denying  that  any  indecencies  had  ever 
taken  place  between  himself  and  Wilde.  Also,  in  view  of  the 
remarks  of  Mr.  Justice  Charles  in  his  summing  up  at  the  last  trial 
as  to  the  probative  value  of  those  portions  of  The  Picture  of  Dorian 
Gray  and  Phrases  and  Philosophies  for  the  Use  of  the  Young,  on 
which  the  prosecution  had  relied  to  some  extent,  no  further  refer- 
ences were  introduced  to  what  had  come  to  be  known  as  the 
literary  part  of  the  case;  and  at  this  final  trial  Wilde  was  not  cross- 
examined  on  his  writings— with  the  exception,  of  course,  of  the 
two  unfortunate  letters  to  Alfred  Douglas,  which  were  once  more 
trotted  out.  To  compensate  for  die  loss  of  Atkins  and  Mavor,  the 
prosecution  produced  two  new  witnesses,  a waiter  and  a chamber- 
maid respectively  from  the  Savoy  Hotel,  who  were  to  corroborate 
the  statements  of  the  other  hotel  servants  ns  to  Wilde’s  alleged 
offences  there.  This  had  rightly  been  felt  to  be  a crucial  part  of 
the  Crown’s  case. 

In  view  of  a letter  which  he  had  received  from  Mr.  Justice 
Wills,  Wilde’s  leading  counsel  felt  it  would  be  fruitless  to  renew 
his  application  to  have  the  trial  postponed  to  the  following  sessions. 
“I  doubt  myself  if  any  earthly  purpose  can  be  answered  by  post- 
ponement of  your  case,”  the  judge  had  written  to  Clarke.  “ Every 
man  in  the  Kingdom  will  know,  or  does  know,  the  outlines  of  the 
evidence  in  this  case,  and  my  experience  is  very  much  m favour 
of  juries  as  to  mere  matters  of  prqudice  in  aiminal  trials.  If  any- 
thing could  make  the  prospect  of  W[ilde]  ’s  trial  tolerable  to  me  or 
anyone  else,  it  is  the  fact  that  you  will  conduct  the  defence.” 

Since  a fresh  jury  had  been  empanelled,  it  was  necessary  for  the 
prosecution  to  present  its  case  in  detail  and  to  recapitulate  much  of 
the  evidence  given  at  Taylor’s  trial  and  the  other  previous  trials. 
The  principal  Crown  witnesses  were  all  self-confessed  accomplices — 
Charles  Parker  and  Alfred  Wood,  who  were  also  blackmailers;  and 
Edward  Shelley.  In  the  case  of  Shelley,  a weak  neurotic  creature, 
full  of  vain  self-reproaches,  there  was  no  corroboration  whatever. 
On  the  contrary,  the  two  letters  which  he  wrote  to  Wilde  and  which 
Clarke  read  out,  tended  to  prove  the  opposite,  namely  that  thw 
relations  were  perfeedy  innocent.  Clarke  in  due  course  submitted 
86 


Introduction. 


that  Shelley’s  evidence  should  be  withdrawn  from  the  jury,  and 
in  spite  of  the  very  strenuous  opposition  put  forward  by  the 
Solicitor-General,  the  judge  accepted  Clarke’s  submission  and 
directed  an  acquittal  on  the  counts  alleging  indecencies  with  Shelley. 
This  decision  produced  a good  deal  of  excitement  in  Court;  and 
even  the  prisoner,  who  had  sat  languidly  in  the  dock  resting  his 
elbows  on  the  side  and  his  head  in  his  hands,  sat  up  erect  as  if  to 
express  satisfaction  that  an  important  portion  of  the  evidence  against 
him  had  been  rejected,  particularly,  it  may  be  noted,  since  Charles, 
J.,  in  the  previous  trial  had  descrd)ed  Shelley  as  the  only  serious 
witness  for  the  Crown  and  the  only  one  untainted  by  blackmail. 

In  his  endeavour  to  secure  a similar  withdrawal  of  the  black- 
mailer Wood’s  evidence  from  the  jury,  Clarke  was  unsuccessful. 
The  judge  refused  to  withdraw  Wood’s  case;  and,  although,  when 
he  came  to  sum  up,  he  commented  that  the  prosecution  had  failed 
to  produce  any  corroboration  of  Wood’s  alleged  immoral  visits  to 
Wilde’s  house  in  Tite  Street,  he  clearly  found  a measure  of  general 
corroboration  in  “the  character  of  the  original  introduction  of  Wood 
to  Wilde.’’  Wood  had  actually  been  introduced  to  the  accused  by 
Lord  Alfred  Dougks,  and  Douglas  had  just  previously  to  that 
received  a letter  from  Wilde,  "of  which,”  to  quote  Wills,  J.,  "it 
was  difficult  to  speak  with  calmness  as  addressed  from  one  man 
to  another”— a letter  which  had  accidentally  come  into  Wood’s 
hands  and  on  the  strength  of  which,  as  we  have  also  seen,  he  and 
his  confederates  had  attempted  to  extort  money  from  Wilde  by 
blackmail.' 

The  other  Crown  witnesses  were  equally  unimpressive.  In  par- 
ticular the  Savoy  Hotel  servants,  who  likewise  repeated  the  evidence 
they  had  given  at  the  previous  trial,  cut  sorry  figures  in  the  witness 
box.  Jane  Cotter,  the  chambermaid,  wore  glasses  because,  as  she 

^ It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  nature  of  Douglas’s  relations  with  Wood  is  open 
to  grave  suspicion.  In  the  suppressed  pordon  of  De  Profundis  Wilde  asserts  that 
Wood  had  attempted  to  blackmail  Douglas  on  account  of  some  improper  reladonsbip 
which  he  infers  Md  existed  between  the  tm>  younger  men  at  Oimid.  Wilde  goes 
Oft  to  remind  Douglas  that,  when  they  were  staying  together  at  Salisbury  early  in 
1803,  Douglas  had  received  a threatening  communication  from  Wood.  He  showed 
this  to  Wilde  begging  him  to  help  him  and  see  Wood,  which  Wilde  agreed  to  do. 
Shortly  afterwards  Wilde  returnee  to  London  and  Douglas  sent  Wood  a telegr^ 
asking  him  to  meet  Wilde  at  the  Ga££  Royal.  Wilde  kept  the  appointment  with 
the  result,  according  to  himself,  that  he  was  obliged  to  take  everything  Douglas 
had  done  on  his  own  shoulders  and  answer  for  It.  See  below,  pp.  97^8. 

87 


Oscar  Wilde. 


admitted,  her  sight  was  bad  and  she  thought  she  might  have  to 
recognize  somebody  in  Court;  but  Clarke  elicited  in  cross-examina- 
tion that  she  had  not  worn  them  on  that  day  over  two  years  ago 
when,  as  she  swore,  she  saw  a boy  in  Wilde’s  room.  Since  she 
also  deposed  that  she  had  entered  the  bedroom  in  response  to  Wilde 
having  rung  the  bell  for  the  chambermaid,  the  judge,  who  certainly 
showed  no  bias  in  favour  of  the  accused,  said  he  found  it  difEcult 
to  accept  this  story.  A similar  incident  deposed  to  by  the  masseur, 
Antonio  Migge,  his  lordship  found  “even  more  slender  from  the 
point  of  view  of  evidence.”  However,  Wills,  J.,  decided,  not- 
withstanding its  admitted  nature,  to  leave  this  testimony  to  the 
consideration  of  the  jury.  It  is  significant,  too,  that  on  the  question 
of  corroboration  there  was  only  one  independant  witness  who 
contradicted  any  statement  that  Wilde  had  made  in  the  previous 
trials.  This  was  Mrs.  Margery  Banaoft,  a tenant  in  the  house 
where  Parker  lodged,  who  swore  that  Wilde  had  called  one  night  in 
a cab,  whereas  Wilde  had  stated  that  he  had  never  been  to  Parker’s 
house.  According  to  her  own  story  this  witness  was  able  to  identify 
the  accused,  since  (so  she  said)  he  had  previously  been  pointed  out 
to  her  as  he  was  standing  outside  the  Royal  Academy  with  two 
ladies. 

As  a rule  Sir  Edward  Clarke  was  most  moderate  and  restramed 
in  his  deliberate  choice  of  language;  but,  in  opening  his  defence  on 
the  morning  of  the  third  day  of  the  trial,  he  was  impelled  to  com- 
ment very  severely  on  the  prosecution’s  conduct  of  the  case.  He 
pointed  out  that  he  had  himself  been  Solicitor-General  for  the 
unprecedented  period  of  six  years,  so  that  he  was  unlikely  to  speak 
lightly  of  the  responsibilities  of  that  office.  “He  is  a minister  of 
justice,  with  a responsibility  more  like  the  responsibility  of  a judge 
than  like  that  of  a counsel  retained  for  a particular  combatant  in 
the  forensic  fray.”  Clarke  thereupon  proceeded  to  remind  his 
learned  friend  of  what  he  feared  he  had  momentarily  forgotten  on 
the  previous  day,  namely,  “that  he  is  not  here  to  try  to  get  a verdict 
of  guilty  by  any  means  he  may  have,  but  that  he  is  here  to  lay 
before  the  jury  for  their  judgment  the  facts  on  which  they  will  be 
asked  to  come  to  a very  serious  consideration.”  Clarke  then  went 
on  to  contrast  Lockwood’s  conduct  with  that  of  Gill,  “of  the  tone 
of  whose  conduct  of  the  last  case  I had  never  for  a moment  to 


Introduction. 


complain.”  As  a Law  Officer  of  the  Crown,  Lockwood  had  come 
down  to  the  Old  Bailey  “armed  with  the  strange  and  invidious 
privilege,  which,"  said  Clarke,  “I  myself  when  Solicitor-General 
never  once  exercised” — the  right  in  all  circumstances  of  the  last 
word  with  the  jury.  But  for  Lockwood’s  insisting  on  the  exercise 
of  this  privilege,  Clarke  indicated  that  he  might  have  relied  upon 
reaxling  the  evidence  which  his  client  had  given  at  the  last  trial. 
As  it  was,  the  defendant,  "broken  as  he  is  now,  as  anyone  who  saw 
him  at  the  first  trial  must  see  he  is,  by  being  kept  in  prison  without 
bail,"  was  obliged  to  go  into  the  witness  box  again,  once  more  to 
repeat  his  denial  of  the  charges  which  had  been  made  against  him. 

It  was  only  when  Wilde  had  taken  his  place  in  the  box  and 
began  to  .answer  his  counsel’s  questions  that  the  full  force  of 
Clarke’s  remarks  became  apparent.  He  looked  haggard;  his  hair, 
usually  so  neatly  dressed,  was  in  disorder;  and  his  voice  sounded 
hollow  and  husky.  His  former  sparkle  and  verve  seemed  to  have 
deserted  him  entirely.  At  liis  counsel’s  request  he  was  allowed  to 
remain  seated  while  giving  evidence.  However,  when  the  Solicitor- 
General  began  to  cross-examine,  it  was  evident  that  Clarke’s 
reprimand  had  exercised  some  cllect,  since  Lockwood’s  tone  was 
considerably  moderated.  Except  possibly  for  one  moment  when 
Lockwood  asked  Wilde,  in  reference  to  the  now  notorious  “prose 
poem”  letter  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  whether  he  understood  the 
meaning  of  the  word  decency,  the  cross-examination  passed  off 
without  incident. 

Once  again,  in  his  final  speech  to  the  jury,  Sir  Edward  Clarke 
put  forward  a remarkable  effort  on  his  client’s  behalf.  His 
denunciation  of  the  blackmailing  practices  of  the  chief  witnesses 
for  the  prosecution,  and  his  comments  on  the  tender  care  which 
had  been  taken  of  these  witnesses  by  the  Crown,  were  even  more 
scathing  than  on  the  previous  occasion.  “This  trial,”  he  said, 
“seems  to  be  operating  as  an  act  of  indemnity  for  all  blackmailers 
in  London.  Wood  and  Parker,  in  giving  evidence,  have  established 
for  themselves  a sort  of  statute  of  limitations.  In  testifying  on 
behalf  of  the  Crown,  they  have  secured  immunity  for  past  rogueries 


Oscar  Wilde. 


admitted,  her  sight  was  bad  and  she  thought  she  might  have  to 
recognize  somebody  in  Court;  but  Clarke  elicited  in  cross-examina- 
tion that  she  had  not  worn  them  on  that  day  over  two  years  ago 
when,  as  she  swore,  she  saw  a boy  in  Wilde’s  room.  Since  she 
also  deposed  that  she  had  entered  the  bedroom  in  response  to  Wilde 
having  rung  the  hell  {or  the  chambermaid,  the  judge,  who  certainly 
showed  no  bias  in  favour  o£  the  accused,  said  he  found  it  difficult 
to  accept  this  story.  A similar  incident  deposed  to  by  the  masseur, 
Antonio  Migge,  his  lordship  found  “even  more  slender  from  the 
point  of  view  of  evidence.”  However,  Wills,  J.,  decided,  not- 
withstanding its  admitted  nature;  to  leave  this  testimony  to  the 
consideration  of  the  jury.  It  is  significant,  too,  that  on  the  question 
of  corroboration  there  was  only  one  independant  witness  who 
contradicted  any  statement  that  Wilde  had  made  in  the  previous 
trials.  This  was  Mrs.  Margery  Bancroft,  a tenant  in  tlie  house 
where  Parker  lodged,  who  swore  that  Wilde  had  called  one  night  in 
a cab,  whereas  Wilde  had  stated  that  he  had  never  been  to  Parker's 
house.  According  to  her  own  story  this  witness  was  able  to  identify 
the  accused,  since  (so  she  said)  he  had  previously  been  pointed  out 
to  her  as  he  was  standing  outside  the  Royal  Academy  with  two 
ladles. 

As  a rule  Sir  Edward  Clarke  was  most  moderate  and  restrained 
in  his  deliberate  choice  of  language;  but,  in  opening  his  defence  on 
the  morning  of  the  third  day  of  the  trial,  he  was  impelled  to  com- 
ment very  severely  on  the  prosecution’s  conduct  of  the  case.  He 
pointed  out  that  he  had  himself  been  Solicitor-General  for  the 
unprecedented  period  of  six  years,  so  that  he  was  unlikely  to  speak 
lightly  of  the  responsibilities  of  that  office.  “He  is  a minister  of 
justice,  with  a responsibility  more  like  the  responsibility  of  a judge 
than  like  that  of  a counsel  retained  for  a particular  combatant  in 
the  forensic  fray.”  Clarke  thereupon  proceeded  to  remind  his 
learned  fiiend  of  what  he  feared  he  had  momentarily  forgotten  on 
the  previous  day,  namely,  “that  he  is  not  here  to  try  to  get  a verdict 
of  guilty  by  any  means  he  may  have,  but  that  he  is  here  to  lay 
before  the  jury  for  their  judgment  the  facts  on  which  they  will  be 
asked  to  come  to  a very  serious  consideration.”  Clarke  then  went 
on  to  contrast  Lockwood’s  conduct  with  that  of  Gill,  “of  the  tone 
of  whose  conduct  of  the  last  case  I had  never  for  a moment  to 
88 


Introduction. 


complain.”  As  a Law  Officer  o£  the  Crown,  Lockwood  had  come 
down  to  the  Old  Bailey  “armed  with  the  strange  and  invidious 
privilege,  which,”  said  Clarke,  “I  myself  wlicn  Solicitor-General 
never  once  exercised” — the  right  in  all  circumstances  of  the  last 
word  with  the  jury.  But  for  Lockwood’s  insisting  on  the  exercise 
of  this  privilege,  Clarke  indicated  that  he  might  have  relied  upon 
reading  the  evidence  which  his  client  had  given  at  the  last  trial. 
As  it  was,  the  defendant,  "broken  as  he  is  now,  as  anyone  who  saw 
him  at  the  first  trial  must  see  he  is,  by  being  kept  in  prison  without 
bail,”  was  obliged  to  go  into  the  witness  box  again,  once  more  to 
repeat  his  denial  of  the  charges  which  had  been  made  against  him. 

It  was  only  when  Wilde  had  taken  his  place  in  the  box  and 
began  to  answer  his  counsel’s  questions  that  the  full  force  of 
Clarke’s  remarks  became  apparent.  He  looked  haggard;  bis  hair, 
usually  so  neatly  dressed,  was  in  disorder;  and  his  voice  sounded 
hollow  and  husky.  His  former  sparkle  and  verve  seemed  to  have 
deserted  him  entirely.  At  Ms  counsel’s  request  he  was  allowed  to 
remain  seated  while  giving  evidence.  However,  when  the  Solicitor- 
General  began  to  cross-examine,  it  was  evident  lh.at  Clarke’s 
reprimand  had  exercised  some  effect,  since  Lockwood’s  tone  was 
considerably  moderated.  Except  possibly  for  one  moment  when 
Lockwood  asked  Wilde,  in  reference  to  the  now  notorious  "prose 
poem”  letter  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  whether  he  understood  the 
meaning  of  the  word  decency,  the  cross-examination  passed  off 
without  incident. 

Once  again,  in  his  final  speech  to  the  jury,  Sir  Edward  Clarke 
put  forward  a remarkable  effort  on  Ms  client’s  behalf.  His 
denunciation  of  the  blackmailing  practices  of  the  chief  witnesses 
for  the  prosecution,  and  his  comments  on  the  tender  care  which 
had  been  taken  of  these  witnesses  by  the  Crown,  were  even  more 
scathing  than  on  the  previous  occaaon.  “This  trial,”  he  said, 
"seems  to  be  operating  as  an  act  of  indemnity  for  all  blackmailers 
in  London.  Wood  and  Parker,  in  giving  evidence,  have  established 
for  themselves  a sort  of  statute  of  limitations.  In  testifying  on 
behalf  of  the  Crown,  they  have  secured  immunity  for  past  rogueries 
and  indecendes.” 

This  speech,  in  wMch  Clarke  reviewed  with  Ms  customary 
meticulous  care  all  the  now  painfully  familiar  evidence, 
89 


Oscar  Wilde. 


provoked  a round  ol  applause  from  his  listeners  at  its  conclusion, 
and  even  earned  a word  of  praise  from  the  Solicitor-General.  But 
if  the  speech  as  uttered  did  not  exhibit  all  the  force  of  his  earlier 
effort,  the  peroration  in  which  he  begged  the  jury  by  their  verdict 
to  allow  a distinguished  man  of  letters  to  continue  to  live  among 
them  and  give  in  the  maturity  of  his  genius  gifts  to  literature  of 
which  he  had  given  only  the  promise  in  his  early  youth,  was 
certainly  delivered  with  all  his  characteristic  eloquence. 

On  the  other  hand,  Sir  Frank  Lockwood  took  the  utmost 
advantage  of  his  exclusive  right  to  the  last  word.  In  an  address  of 
great  power  he  showed  no  signs  of  the  more  restrained  line  which 
he  had  followed  in  his  cross-examination  of  the  accused.  His 
allusion  to  the  result  of  Taylor’s  trial  brought  Clarke  to  his  feet 
in  hot  protest,  but  the  protest  for  what  it  was  worth  came  too  late. 
He  fastened,  of  course,  on  tlie  “prose  poem”  letter.  "I  contend  that 
such  a letter  found  in  the  possession  of  a woman  from  a man  would 
be  open  to  but  one  interpretation,”  he  said.  “How  much  worse 
is  the  inference  to  be  drawn  when  such  a letter  is  written  from  one 
man  to  another.  ...  If  that  letter  had  been  seen  by  any  right- 
minded  man,  it  would  have  been  looked  upon  as  evidence  of  a 
guilty  passion.” 

Wilde  appeared  as  if  stunned  by  such  a damning  recitation  of 
his  delinquencies.  Afterwards,  in  Reading  Gaol,  he  recalled 
the  effect  which  this  oratory  had  upon  him  at  the  time.  “I 
remember,”  he  wrote  in  De  Profundis,  “that  as  I was  sitting  in  the 
dock  on  the  occasion  of  my  last  trial  listening  to  Lockwood's 
appalling  denunciation  of  me — like  a thing  out  of  Tacitus,  like  a 
passage  in  Dante,  like  one  of  Savonarola’s  indictments  of  the  Popes 
of  Rome— and  being  sickened  with  horror  at  what  I heard,  suddenly 
it  occurred  to  me,  how  splendid  it  would  be  if  I was  saying  all 
this  about  myself.  I saw  then  at  once  that  what  is  said  of  a man 
is  nothing.  The  point  is,  who  says  it.  A man’s  very  highest 
raoment  is,  I have  no  doubt  at  all,  when  he  kneels  in  the  dust,  and 
he  beats  his  breast,  and  tells  all  the  sins  of  his  life.” 

As  befitted  an  authority  on  circumstantial  evidence,  Mr.  Justice 
Wills  summed  up  in  a manner  which  it  can  hardly  be  said  was 
partial  or  unfair  to  the  prisoner.  He  did  not,  however,  attempt 
to  conceal  his  opinion  of  the  Wilde-Douglas  correspondence,  and 
SO 


Introduction. 


this  was  anything  but  favourable  to  the  writer.  Indeed  his  remarks 
were  such  that  the  foreman  of  the  jury  was  moved  to  interpose 
and  inquire  whether,  “in  view  of  the  intimacy  between  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  and  Wilde,"  a warrant  had  ever  been  issued  for  Douglas’s 
arrest.  Wills,  J.,  replied  that  he  had  not  heard  of  it,  adding  that, 
although  they  were  not  concerned  with  the  question  of  the  younger 
man’s  guilt,  it  would  be  “utterly  hopeless  and  impossible’’  to  sup- 
pose that  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  would  be  spared  just  because  he  was 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas, 

The  jury  retired  about  3.30  p.m.  on  25th  May.  When  they  had 
been  absent  three  hours  they  sent  a note  to  the  judge  that  they 
wished  to  put  a question  to  him.  There  was  a buzz  of  conversa- 
tion in  Court.  "That  means  an  acquittal,’’  said  one  of  the  Treasury 
counsel.  But  Clarke  was  less  sanguine  and  shook  his  head.  The 
question  turned  out  to  be  unimportant,  relating  as  it  did  to  the 
evidence  of  the  servant  at  Wilde’s  rooms  in  St.  James’s  Place.  The 
jury  again  retired,  but  only  for  a few  moments.  When  they 
returned  they  were  agreed  on  their  verdict— guilty  on  all  counts 
except  that  relating  to  Shelley,  on  which  the  judge  had  already 
directed  them  to  acquit. 

There  is  no  need  to  dwell  upon  the  final  episode.  The  severe 
words  employed  by  the  judge  in  passing  the  maximum  sentence 
contrasted  strongly  with  the  comparatively  moderate  language  of 
his  summing  up  and  astonished  many  who  listened  to  them  in 
Court.  But  the  murmurs  of  “Oh I”  and  “Shame!”  were  quickly 
drowned  in  a hum  of  approval.  Taylor  heard  his  sentence  with 
seeming  indifference,  but  the  other  tragic  frock-coated  figure  in  the 
dock  swayed  slightly,  his  face  suffused  with  horror,  and  tried  to 
utter  a few  words  of  protest.  But  he  was  not  allowed  to  finish, 
a warder  touched  him  on  the  shoulder  and  in  a few  instants  he  was 
hurried  below.  Among  those  present  in  Court  on  whom  this 
scene  made  an  unforgettable  impression,  was  a young  actor  named 
Seymour  Hicks.  Many  years  later  he  wrate ; "I  have  seen  many 
awful  happenmgs  at  the  Old  Bailey,  but  to  me  no  death  sentence 
has  ever  seemed  so  terrible  as  the  one  Mr,  Justice  Wills  delivered 
91 


Oscar  Wilde. 


when  his  duty  called  upon  him  to  destroy  and  take  £rom  the  world 
the  man  who  had  given  it  so  much.’’’ 

Meanwhile,  in  the  streets  outside  the  Old  Bailey  the  verdict  was 
received  with  sundry  marks  o£  popular  approval.  A few  people 
literally  danced  with  joy,  and  some  prostimtes  were  seen  to  kick 
up  their  skirts  with  glee  at  the  news.  "E’ll  ’avc  ’is  ’air  cut  reglar 
noail"  shouted  one  of  them.  This  sally  provoked  a loud  chorus 
of  laughter.  Further  up  the  social  scale  feelings  were  more  decently 
disguised. 


XIII 

The  first  six  months  of  his  two  year  sentence  Wilde  served  in 
Wandsworth  prison,  the  remainder  in  Reading.  His  transfer  to  the 
latter  establishment  in  particularly  humiliating  circumstances,  and 
his  other  bitter  experiences  as  a convict,  were  later  described 
by  him  in  De  Frofundis,  and  also  in  a series  of  letters  which  he 
wrote  after  his  release  to  the  Daily  Chronicle  and  which  contri- 
buted in  some  measure  towards  the  ultimate  improvement  of  penal 
conditions  in  England.  Their  narration  has  no  place  in  this  book. 
Several  petitions  for  his  release  were  got  up,  one  of  which  was 
signed  by  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw,  but  they  were  all  abandoned  through 
lack  of  support.  Nor  was  any  appeal  passible  to  the  Court  of 
Crown  Cases  Reserved  on  the  question  of  law  which  had  been 
raised  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke  at  the  trial* 

Wilde  was  eventually  released  at  the  expiration  of  the  full  term 
of  his  sentence,  on  19th  May,  1897.  He  crossed  to  the  Continent  the 
same  day  and  never  returned  to  England.  He  died  in  Paris  on  30th 
November,  1900,  at  the  age  of  forty-six. 

One  event  of  the  prison  period  must,  however,  be  .mentioned 
here,  since  it  was  the  direct  outcome  of  the  trials.  This  was  Wilde’s 
insolvency,  which  constituted  in  itself  a further  trial  for  the  unfor- 

a See  Sir  Seymour  Hicks,  Between  Ourselves  (1930),  at  p,  86.  Another  intcrcitcd 
spectator,  who  sat  heside  SeyiMur  Hkks  on  this  occasion,  was  Mr.  (now  Sir)  Max 
Beeibohm,  whose  brilliant  caricatures  o£  Wilde  are  well  known. 

1 The  Attorney-General  refused  to  n-ant  the  necessary  fiat  for  a writ  of  error 
00  die  ground  that  the  point  had  ilrady  been  decided  in  Beg,  v,  Owen,  20  Q.B.D. 
819.  No  further  legal  remedy  was  available,  since  the  High  Court  could  not 
judicially  move  the  Attorney-Genera]  to  issue  his  fiat.  Sec  below,  p.  188. 

92 


Introduction. 


tunate  man.  As  has  been  seen,  Quecnsbcrry  was  the  petitioning 
creditor,  his  proved  debt  being  the  amount  of  his  costs  in  the 
original  prosecution.  The  first  meeting  of  creditors  under  the 
receiving  order,  which  had  been  made,  took  place  before  the  Official 
Receiver  in  London  on  26th  August,  1895,  when  the  debtor  was 
adjudicated  bankrupt.  Wilde  has  recorded  in  De  Profmdis  the 
details  of  his  journeys  to  and  from  the  Bankruptcy  Court  “ under 
conditions  of  terrible  mental  distress.”  On  24th  September  he  was 
brought  up  from  Wandsworth  for  his  public  examination;  but  he 
did  not  appear  in  Court,  since  the  examination  was  adjourned  for 
six  weeks  on  the  application  of  his  counsel.  Nearly  ,{1500  had  been 
subsaibed  on  his  behaK  by  his  friends;  and,  tince  his  total  liabilities 
only  amounted  to  £2000  in  excess  of  the  sum  subscribed,  it  was 
hoped  that  all  the  creditors  might  eventually  be  paid  in  full.  But' 
this  hope  was  not  destined  to  be  realized.  On  12th  November  the 
adjourned  examination  was  conducted  before  tire  Registrar  in  a 
Court-room  crowded  with  curious  spectators  who  had  come  to 
gloat  over  the  convict  In  his  hour  of  misfortune  and  humiliation. 
Of  this  episode,  Wilde  wrote  from  prison : "Step  by  step  with  the 
Bankruptcy  Receiver  I had  to  go  over  every  item  of  my  life.  It 
was  horrible.”  But  there  occured  one  incident  on  tltat  dreadful 
day  which  touched  him  deeply.  Readers  of  the  published  version 
of  Dc  Profundi:  will  remember  his  description  of  the  friend  who 
waited  for  him  in  the  long  dreary  corridor  outside  the  Court-room 
so  that,  “before  the  whole  crowd,  whom  an  action  so  sweet  and 
simple  hushed  into  silence,  he  might  gravely  raise  his  hat  to  me  as, 
handcuffed  and  with  bowed  head,  I passed  him  by.’” 

This  was  perhaps  the  most  bitter  of  all  his  bitter  experiences 
at  this  time,  and  he  frequently  reflected  upon  it  during  the  long 
days  and  nights  at  Reading.  “You  may  be  interested  to  know,”  he 
wrote  to  Douglas,  “that  your  father  openly  said  in  the  Orleans 
Club  that,  if  it  had  cost  him  ,^2000,  he  would  have  considered  the 
money  thoroughly  well  spent,  he  had  extracted  such  enjoyment  and 
delight  and  triumph  out  of  it  all.  The  fact  that  he  was  able  not 
merely  to  put  me  into  prison  for  two  years  but  to  take  me  out  for 
an  afternoon  and  make  me  a public  bankrupt  was  an  extra  refine- 


2 Robert  Ross. 


93 


Oscar  Wilde. 


ment  of  pleasure  that  he  had  not  expected.  It  was  the  crowning 
point  of  my  humiliation  and  of  his  compiete  and  perfect  victory.” 
Again,  the  prisoner  wrote  to  his  erstwhiie  friend,  “the  iaw  has 
taken  from  me  not  merely  all  that  I have,  my  books,  furniture, 
pictures,  my  copyright  in  all  my  published  works,  my  copyright 
in  my  plays,  everything  in  fact  from  The  Happy  Prince  and  Lady 
Windermere’s  Fan  down  to  the  stair  carpets  and  door  scraper  of 
my  house,  but  also  ali  that  I am  ever  going  to  have.  My  interest 
in  my  marriage  settlement,  for  instance,  was  sold."  Fortunately 
for  Wilde,  some  of  his  friends  managed  to  buy  in  the  interest  in 
the  settlement,  primarily  so  that  his  two  young  children  should  not 
be  left  penniless.  But  as  for  himself,  his  affairs  remained  in  the 
hands  of  his  trustees  in  bankruptcy  for  the  rest  of  his  brief  life,  and 
he  never  succeeded  in  obtaining  his  discharge  and  the  resdssion 
of  the  receiving  order.® 

Though  it  might  be  thought  otherwise,  Wilde’s  experiences  in 
prison  did  not  leave  him  with  a permanent  grudge  against  the  social 
order  which  had  sent  him  there.  “I  have  not  come  out  of  prison 
an  embittered  or  disappointed  man,”  he  told  the  painter  William 
Rothenstein.  “On  the  contrary,  in  many  ways  I have  gained  much. 
I am  not  reaily  ashamed  of  having  been  in  prison ; I often  was  in 
more  shameful  places,  but  I am  really  ashamed  of  having  led  a life 
unworthy  of  an  artist.  I don’t  say  that  Messalina  is  a better  com- 
panion than  Sporus,  or  that  the  one  is  all  right  and  the  other  all 
wrong:  I know  simply  that  a life  of  definite  and  studied 
materialism,  and  philosophy  of  appetite  and  cynicism,  and  a cult 
of  sensual  and  senseless  ease,  are  bad  things  for  an  artist:  they 
narrow  the  imagination  and  dull  the  more  delicate  sensibilities.” 
Unfortunately  Wilde  found  himself  unable  ultimately  to  benefit 
from  the  lesson  he  had  learned.  The  relations  with  Sporus  were 
resumed,  although  by  a curious  stroke  of  irony  it  was  the  latent 
after-effects  of  his  youthful  connexion  with  Messalina  in  addition 
to  the  mental  solace  afforded  by  Bacchus  which  was  the  main  cause 
of  his  death.  The  doctor  who  attended  him  in  his  last  days  stated 
that  his  patient  displayed  all  the  symptoms  of  a chronic  syphilitic. 


^Tbe  bankruptcy  was  in  effect  tnaulled  in  See  above,  p.  30,  note.  See 
also  Appendix  C. 

94 


Introduction. 


“I  don’t  defend  my  conduct.  I explain  it."  Thus  wiote  Wilde 
on  the  eve  of  his  release  from  Raiding  Gaol  to  his  friend  and 
literary  executor,  Robert  Ross.  The  explanation  can  be  found  in  a 
curious  document,  a mixture  of  apology,  self-abasement  and  violent 
recrimination  which  Wilde  composed  in  prison.  This  document 
took  the  form  of  a long  letter  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  and  it  was 
originally  entrusted  to  Ross  for  the  purpose  of  having  copies  made 
of  it.  Douglas  denied  that  it  was  ever  delivered  to  its  intended 
recipient.  In  1905  Ross  published  parts  of  it  under  the  title  De 
Profmdis,  to  which  a few  other  excerpts  were  added  in  a new 
edition  which  appeared  four  years  later.  In  1913,  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  brought  an  action  for  libel  against  Mr.  Arthur  Ransome, 
who  had  produced  a biography  of  Wilde,  in  which  he  described 
De  Frofundis  as  having  been  written  to  “a  man  to  whom  Wilde 
felt  that  he  owed  some  at  least  of  the  public  circumstances  of  his 
disgrace.”  In  his  plea  of  ju.stification,  the  defendant  put  in  sub- 
stantial portions  of  the  letter  which  had  been  suppressed  by  Ross  in 
the  published  versions.  These  passages  were  reaid  out  in  Court  and 
were  far  from  complimentary  to  Douglas.*  In  this  manner  the 
pubbe,  including  Douglas  himself  (so  he  said),  learned  for  the  first 
time  what  was  the  true  nature  of  the  work  known  as  De  Pro- 
fundis.  Although  it  has  yet  to  be  published  in  its  entirety,  the 
sum  of  its  contents  is  now  no  longer  a seaet.® 

For  students  of  the  Wilde  trials  the  interest  of  De  Profundis, 
particularly  as  regards  the  suppressed  portions,  lies  in  the  author's 
allusions  to  the  central  catastrophe  and  the  events  which  caused  it. 

*The  action  Douglas  v.  Ransome  end  Others,  was  tried  before  Darling,  J.,  is 
the  King’s  Bench  Division  o£  the  Ck^urt  and  resulted  ia  a verdict  for  the 
defendants.  Reports  will  be  found  in  The  Times,  i8th,  x^tb,  und,  and  23rd 
April,  19x3.  At  this  trial  Douglas  dented  that  he  had  received  a copy  of  the  com> 
plete  De  Profundis  until  just  hefore  the  action  came  on.  He  repeats  this  denial 
in  subsequent  writings.  Robert  Ross,  however,  asserted  that  he  received  one  during 
Wilde's  lifetime— on  9th  August,  1897.  See  The  Ubiety  of  William  Andrews 
Clar\,  Jr.,  Wdde  and  Wildeana,  Vol.  II  (1922),  at  p.  70. 

^ The  complete  manuscript  was  defKtsked  by  Rohert  Ross  in  the  British  Museum 
in  1909  on  the  understanding  that  it  should  remain  sealed  up  until  1960.  Several 
copies  were  made  privately  at  the  time,  and  fifteen  were  printed  in  the  United 
States,  of  which  two  were  deposited  for  copyright  purposes  in  the  Libraij  of 
Congress  in  Washington,  D.G.  A page  of  the  ondnal  MS.  is  reproduced  in  facsimile 
in  Stuart  Mason’s  ^bliogfaphy  of  Ostxr  Wilde  119Z4)»  it  pp.  448-449>  That  part 
of  the  suppressed  portion  which  was  lead  out  in  C^it  during  the  Douglas-Ransotne 
trial  was  published  by  Frank  Harris  in  the  Ameiican  edition  of  bis  Oscar  Wilde 
(1918),  Vol.  n,  pp.  552-575. 


95 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Here,  ior  example,  is  his  account  of  die  fatal  “prose  poem”  letter, 
whicli  formed  such  an  important  link  in  the  chain  of  events  encom- 
passing his  ruin  and  which,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  been 
written  as  the  result  of  a poem  sent  by  Douglas  to  him. 


. . You  send  me  a very  mce  poem  of  the  undergraduate 
school  of  verse  for  my  approval.  I reply  by  a letter  of  fantastic 
literary  conceits:  I compare  you  to  Hylas,  or  Hyacinth, 
Jonquil  or  Narcissus,  or  some  one  whom  the  Great  God  of 
Poetry  favoured,  and  honoured  with  his  love.  The  letter  is 
like  a passage  from  one  of  Shakespeare’s  sonnets  transposed 
to  a minor  key. 

It  was,  let  me  say  frankly,  die  sort  of  letter  I would,  in  a 
happy,  if  wilful  moment,  have  written  to  any  young  man  of 
eidier  university  who  had  sent  me  a poem  of  his  own  making, 
certain  that  he  would  have  sufficient  wit  or  culture  to  interpret 
rightly  its  fantastic  phrases.  Look  at  the  history  of  that  letter  1 
It  passes  from  you  into  the  hands  of  a loathsome  companion, 
from  him  to  a gang  of  blackmailers,  copies  of  it  arc  sent  about 
London  to  my  friends,  and  to  the  manager  of  the  theatre 
where  my  work  is  being  performed,  every  construction  but  the 
right  one  is  put  upon  it,  society  is  thrilled  with  the  absurd 
rumours  that  I have  had  to  pay  a high  sum  of  money  for 
having  written  an  infamous  letter  to  you;  this  forms  the  basis 
of  your  father’s  worst  attack. 

I produce  the  original  letter  myself  in  Court  to  show  what 
it  really  it;  it  is  denounced  by  your  father’s  counsel  as  a 
revolting  and  insidious  attempt  to  corrupt  innocence; 
ultimatdy  it  forms  part  of  a crimin.il  charge:  the  Crown 
takes  it  up : the  judge  sums  up  on  it  with  litde  learning  and 
much  morality : I go  to  prison  for  it  at  last.  That  is  the  result 
of  writing  you  a charming  letter.” 

Of  course,  Wilde  did  not  go  to  prison,  as  he  suggests  here, 
simply  because  he  had  written  an  extravagant  letter.  There  was 
another  side  of  the  picture,  which  he  himself  admitted,  It  was 
repeatedly  made  clear  at  various  stages  during  the  trials  that  Wilde 
could  not  be  convicted  on  the  sole  evidence  of  this  letter  he  had 
written  Douglas.  But  there  is  no  doubt  that  its  cumulative  effect, 
when  considered  with  the  rest  of  the  evidence  against  him,  was 
damning  in  the  eyes  of  the  jury,  although  he  himself  had  actually 
96 


Introduction. 


produced  the  letter.  It  was  a dead  weight  he  had  to  carry  through- 
out the  Old  Bailey  drama,  and  it  may  well  have  eventually  turned 
the  scales  .against  him. 

In  what  is  perhaps  the  most  interesting  passage  in  the  suppressed 
portion  of  De  Prof  uadis,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  trials,  Wilde 
makes  the  remarkable  statement  that,  but  for  the  sake  of  his  friend 
whose  reputation  he  was  shielding,  he  might  have  said  much  more 
than  he  did  when  he  went  into  the  witness  box. 


"The  sins  of  anodier  were  being  placed  to  my  account. 
Had  I so  chosen,  I could  on  either  trial  have  saved  myself 
at  his  expense,  not  from  shame  indeed,  but  from  imprison- 
ment.® Had  I cared  to  show  that  the  Crown  wimesses — ^the 
three  most  important — ^had  been  carefully  coached  by  your 
father  and  his  solicitors,  not  in  reticences  merely,  but  in  asser- 
tions, in  the  absolute  transference  deliberate,  plotted  and 
rehearsed,  of  the  actions  and  doings  of  someone  else  on  to  me, 
I could  have  had  each  one  of  diem  dismissed  from  die  box  by 
die  judge,  more  summarily  tlian  even  wretched  perjured 
Atkins  was.  I could  luive  walked  out  of  Court  with  my 
tongue  in  my  clieek,  and  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  a free  man. 
The  strongest  pressure  was  put  upon  me  to  do  so,  I was 
eiirnestly  advi.scd,  begged,  entreated  to  do  so  by  people,  whose 
sole  interest  w.as  my  welfare,  and  the  welfare  of  my  house. 
But  I refused.  I did  not  choo.se  to  do  so.  I have  never 
regretted  my  decision  for  a single  moment,  even  in  the  most 
bitter  petiods  of  my  imprisonment.  Such  a course  of  acdon 
would  have  liecn  beneath  me.  Sins  of  the  flesh  are  nothing. 
They  arc  maladies  for  physicians  to  cure,  if  they  should  be 
cured.  Sins  of  the  soul  alone  are  shameful.  To  have  secured 
my  acquittal  by  such  means  would  have  been  a life-long 
torture  to  me.  But  do  you  really  think  you  were  worthy  of 
the  love  I was  showing  you  then,  or  that  for  a single  moment 
I thought  you  were?” 

The  full  effect  of  these  remarks  will  be  appreciated  in  the  light 
of  the  illuminating  conversation  wWch  Wilde  had  had  with  Frank 
Harris,  when  he  was  out  on  bail  before  the  last  trial,  and  which 

^ Wilde  made  a similnr  admission  after  his  release  to  his  future  biographer,  R.  H. 
Sherardi  “It  would  have  meant  betraying  a friend.”  See  Sherard,  lift  of  Oscar 
Wilde  (19(36),  at  p.  368. 

G 


97 


Oscar  Wilde. 


has  been  described  in  these  pages.’  Eut  it  does  not  follow  that,  if 
Wilde  had  incriminated  his  friend  by  relating  the  true  facts  of  the 
Savoy  Hotel  visit  from  tlte  witness  box,  he  would  have  succeeded  in 
exculpating  himself  at  the  same  time.  As  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw  has 
pointed  out  in  his  preface  to  the  English  edition  of  Frank  Harris’s 
controversial  book  on  Wilde,  this  may  merely  mean  that  the  police 
“constructed"  their  story  confusedly,  not  that  the  charges  were 
untrue  or  the  verdict  wrong.*  Nevertheless,  there  is  just  the  possi- 
bility, which  cannot  be  entirely  overlooked,  that  if  Wilde  at  cither 
trial  had  told  the  whole  story  of  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  at  the  Savoy, 
with  the  added  aid  of  Clarke’s  powerful  advocacy,  he  would  have 
been  acquitted. 

In  this  same  remarkable  letter  to  his  friend,  he  showed  how 
fully  he  realized  that,  but  for  his  precipitate  acdon  with  Queens- 
berry,  he  would  probably  not  have  been  writing,  as  he  was,  from 
Reading  Gaol. 

"Remember  how  and  why  1 am  here  at  this  very  moment, 
So  you  think  I am  here  on  .account  of  my  relations  with  the 
witnesses  on  my  trial?  My  relations,  real  or  supposed,  with 
people  of  tlmt  kind  were  matters  of  no  interest  citlier  to  the 
Government  or  to  society.  They  knew  nothing  of  them  and 
cared  less.  I am  here  for  having  tried  to  put  your  father 
into  prison.  My  attempt  fciilcd,  of  course.  My  own  counsel 
threw  up  their  briefs.  Your  father  completely  turned  the 
tables  on  me,  and  had  me  in  prison,  has  me  there  still.  That 
is  why  there  is  contempt  felt  for  me.  That  is  why  people 
despise  me.  That  is  whyT  have  to  serve  out  every  day,  every 
hour,  every  minute  of  my  dreadful  imprisonment.  That  is 
why  my  petidons  have  been  refused,”’ 


7 See  above,  p.  6o>  The  Crown  wltnttses  referred  to  were  most  probably  the 
masseur  Migge,  the  chambermaid  Cotter,  and  the  housekeeper  Perkins,  who 
were  all  en^loyed  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  when  Wilde  stayed  there  with  Douglas  in 
March,  1893. 

® j^nk  Harris,  Oscar  Wilde  ^1938),  at  p.  xxvii. 

® Wilde  also  Douglas  iat  he  (Dougjas)  had  laughed  when,  in  the 

early  days  of  dieir  association,  WUde  told  hun  how  Taylor  ("that  unfortunate  young 
man  who  ultimately  stood  beside  me  in  the  dock")  had  warned  Wilde  more  than 
once  that  Douglas  would  prove  "far  more  fatal"  in  bringing  Wilde  to  "utter 
destruction"  tiian  any  of  ihe  “common  lads"  whom  he  was  foolish  enough  to  know. 

98 


Introduction. 


01  the  folly  of  his  conduct  Wilde  lud  no  illusions.  "I  became 
the  spendtlirilt  ot  my  genius,”  he  wrote,  “and  to  waste  an  eternal 
youth  gave  me  a curious  joy.  Tired  of  being  on  the  heights,  I 
deliberately  went  to  the  depths  in  search  of  a new  sensation.  What 
the  paradox  was  to  be  in  the  sphere  of  thought,  perversity  became 
to  me  in  the  sphere  of  passion.”  Yet,  however  he  may  have 
censured  himself  in  his  prison  cell  for  his  indulgence  in  “perverse 
pleasures,”  he  returned  to  these  pleasures  very  soon  after  his  release. 
He  resumed,  too,  his  relations  widi  Lord  Alfred  Douglas;  and  he 
forgot  everything  he  had  formerly  written  about  his  friend  in  the 
bitterness  of  his  heart.  “I  fed  that  my  only  hope  of  again  doing 
beautiful  work  in  art  is  being  with  you,"  he  told  him  a few  months 
after  he  left  Reading.  "Everyone  is  furious  with  me  for  going 
back  to  you,  but  they  don't  understand  us.  I feel  that  it  is  only 
with  you  that  I can  do  anytlting  at  ail.  Do  rcnuikc  my  ruined  life 
for  me,  and  then  our  friendship  and  love  will  have  a different 
meaning  to  the  world." 

Not  even  during  his  imprisonment  did  the  fact  tliat  he  had  been 
on  intimate  terms  with  the  kind  of  individual,  who  liad  testified 
against  him  at  the  Old  Hailey,  fdl  Wilde  with  any  conscious  sense 
of  shame.  Wliiit  disturbed  him  was  the  false  role  which  he  was 
consequently  forced  to  play  in  the  ensuing  tragedy. 

“People  thought  it  dreadful  of  me  to  have  entertained  at 
dinner  the  evil  things  of  life,  and  to  have  found  pleasure  in 
their  company.  But  then,  from  the  point  of  view  through 
which  I,  as  an  artist  in  life,  approach  them,  they  were  delight- 
fully suggestive  and  srimulating.  It  was  like  feasting  with 
panthers;  the  danger  was  half  the  excitement.  I used  Co  feel 
as  a snake-charmer  must  feel  when  he  lures  the  cobra  to  sdr 
from  the  painted  cloth  or  reed  basket  that  holds  it  and  makes 
it  spread  its  hood  at  his  bidding  and  sway  to  and  fro  in  the 
air  as  a plant  sways  restfully  in  a stream.  They  were  to  me 
the  brightest  of  gilded  snakes,  thdr  poison  was  part  of  their 
perfection.  I did  not  know  lhat  when  they  were  to  strike  at 
me  it  was  to  be  at  another’s  piping  and  at  another’s  pay.  I 
don’t  feel  at  all  ashamed  at  having  known  them,  they  were 
intensely  interesting;  what  I do  feel  ashamed  of  is  the  horrible 
Philistine  atmosphere  into  which  I was  brought.  My  business 
as  an  artist  was  with  Ariel,  I set  myself  to  wrestle  with 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Calibaa.  Instead  o£  making  beautiiul  cobuted  musical  things 
such  as  SalomS  and  die  Florendne  Tragedy  and  La  Sainte 
Courilsane,  I forced  myself  to  send  long  lawyer’s  letters  and 
was  constrained  to  appeal  to  the  very  things  against  which  1 
had  always  protested.  Clibborn  and  Atkins  were  wonderful 
in  their  infamous  war  against  life.  To  entertain  them  was  an 
astounding  adventure;  Dumas  pere,  Cellini,  Goya,  Edgar  Allan 
Poe,  or  Baudelaire  would  have  done  just  the  same.  What  is 
loathsome  to  me  is  the  memory  of  interminable  visits  paid  by 
me  to  the  solicitor  Humphreys,  when  in  the  ghastly  glare  of 
a bleak  room  I would  sit  with  a serious  face  telling  serious 
lies  to  a bald  man  till  I really  groaned  and  yawned  with 
ennui.  There  is  where  I found  myself,  right  in  the  centre 
of  Philistia,  away  from  everything  that  was  beautiful  or 
brilliant  or  wonderful  or  daring.  I had  come  forward  as  the 
champion  of  respectability  in  conduct,  of  puritanism  in  life, 
and  of  morality  in  art.  Voild  oh  minent  les  mauvais 
chemins.  , . 

The  truth  is  diat  Oscar  Wilde  was  amoral  rather  than  immoral; 
jnd,  in  looking  back  upon  the  scandal  of  the  trials  in  which  he  was 
involved,  the  English  public  has  an  uneasy  conscience  .about  him. 
For  a good  deal  of  the  mud  thrown  at  the  time  has  stuck.  It  is 
still  thought  in  some  quarters  that  Wilde  was  a dcb.aucher  of  youth. 
In  passing  sentence  upon  him,  Mr.  Justice  Wills  described  Wilde  as 
having  been  "the  centre  of  a drclc  of  extensive  corruption  of  the 
most  hideous  land  among  young  men.”  Strictly  speaking,  this 
statement  is  not  true;  Wilde  was  never  proved  to  have  corrupted 
any  youthful  innocence.  It  is  significant,  too,  that  in  respect  of  the 
charges  relating  to  the  only  two  young  men  of  decent  background 
with  whom  he  was  accused  of  immoral  praedees— Mavor  and 
Shelley— he  was  acquitted.  On  the  other  hand,  that  he  was  guilty 
of  the  crimes  of  which  he  was  accused  is  now  beyond  dispute.  But 
for  the  sake  of  English  justice  it  is  regrettable  that  Wilde’s  guilt 
was  not  brought  home  to  him,  and  to  the  world  at  large,  beyond 
all  reasonable  doubt— in  other  words,  with  that  measure  of  certainty 
in  proof  which  the  English  law  demands  in  criminal  trials. 

It  is  given  to  few  to  be  the  central  figure  in  three  Old  Bailey 
trials  before  three  different  judges  at  three  consecutive  sessions. 
Such  was  the  lot  of  Oscar  Wilde.  He  realized  the  consequences 
100 


Introduction. 


which  they  entailed  for  him,  and  that,  even  when  his  olicnee  had 
been  purged,  he  would  still  have  to  reclcon  with  the  enmity  ot 
society.  “All  trials  are  trials  Cor  one’s  liCe,  just  as  all  sentences  are 
sentences  of  death,”  he  wrote  in  the  conclusion  of  De  Pmfundis; 
“and  tlitee  times  have  I been  tried.  The  first  time  I left  the  box  to 
be  arrested,  the  second  time  to  be  led  back  to  tlic  house  of  detention, 
the  third  time  to  pass  into  a prison  for  two  years.  Society,  as  we 
have  constituted  it,  will  have  no  place  for  me,  has  none  to  offer; 
but  Nature,  whose  sweet  rains  fall  on  just  and  unjust  alike,  will 
have  clefts  in  the  rocks  where  I may  hide,  and  secret  valleys  in 
whose  silence  I may  weep  undisturbed.  She  will  hang  the  night 
with  stars  so  that  I may  walk  abroad  in  the  darkness  without 
stumbling,  and  send  the  wind  over  my  footprints  so  that  none  may 
track  me  to  ray  hurt:  she  will  cleanse  me  in  great  waters,  and 
with  bitter  herbs  make  me  whole." 

Now  let  the  records  of  the  trials  speak  for  themselves. 


101 


Leading:  Dates  relating  to  the  Wilde  Trials 


l6tk  Oct.,  1854 
1&7M874 

1874-1878 

a^th  May,  1884 

2Qth  June,  i8go 

a4th  April,  1891 

c,  June-July 
a6ih  Feb.,  1892 

Sepcecnber-October 

NoYcmber 

x8tb  Kovember 
January,  1893 


February 

March 

13th  March 

xpth  April 

Aptil-May 
4th  May. 


Oscar  Wilde  bora  at  21  Westland  Row,  Dublin. 

Wilde  at  Trini^  College,  Dublin. 

Scholar  and  winner  of  Berkeley  Gold  Medal  for  Greek. 

Wilde  it  Ma^alen  College,  Oxford. 

Winner  of  Newdigate  Piiic  for  English  Verse  with 

RaPittna* 

Wilde  marrt»i  Miss  Constance  Lloyd,  daughter  of  Mr. 
Horatio  Lloyd,  Q.C.  at  St.  James's  Church,  Paddington, 
London. 

The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray  published  in  Lippineott’t 
Montiily  Ma^zine. 

The  Picture  of  Dotan  Gray  published  in  book  form  by 
Ward,  Lock  it  Go.,  London. 

Wilde  first  mtt  Lord  Alfred  Douglas. 

Wilde  stayed  ai  the  Albemarle  Hotel.  Alleged  offenct 
with  Edward  Shelley, 

Wilde  firit  met  Alfred  Taylor  and  Sidney  Mavor. 

Wilde  introduced  to  the  Marquess  oC  Queensberry  at 
lunch  in  the  Cafd  Royal. 

First  alleged  offence  with  Frederick  Atkins. 

Wilde  wrote  the  notorious  "prose  poem”  letter  to  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas. 

Wilde  first  met  Alfred  Wood  at  the  CaK  Royal  in 
r^onsc  to  a telegram  from  Lord  Alfred  Douglas. 

First  alleged  offence  with  Wood  at  16  Tite  Street. 

Wilde  visited  Ibrfc  with  Frederick  Atkins. 

Wilde  stayed  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  with  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas. 

Wilde  introduced  to  Charles  and  William  Parker  by 
Alfred  Taylor.  First  alleged  offence  with  Charles 
Parker  in  the  Savoy  Hotol. 

A Woman  of  Vo  Importance  first  performed 'at  the 
Haymaiket  Theatre. 

Wood,  Cliburn  and  Allen  attempted  to  blackmail  Wilde. 

French  version  of  the  "prose  poem"  letter  to  Lord 
AIM  Douglas  written  in  sonnet  form  by  Pierre  Louy* 
and  published  in  The  Spirit  Lamp. 

102 


Oct , iflpa-March.  1894 
lit  April]  1894 
May 

June 

December 

14th  Febiuary]  1695 

18th  February 

aSth  February 

lit  March 

and  Maich 
9th  March 

18th  March 
^oth  March 
3rd  April 

5th  April 

8th  April 

jpth  April 
23rd  April 

addi  April 

I8t  May 


Leading  Dates— Mfin'iiwu! 

Wilde  ucLupted  lotuns  at  10  and  11  St.  James's  Place. 
Alleged  uirecicea  with  Sidney  M-ivoi  and  Charles  Parker 

Qiieensbeiiy  thtciiened  to  disown  his  son,  Lord  Al&ed 
DougUs,  unless  he  ct  \scd  his  association  with  Wilde. 

Wilde  a)nsulted  the  solicitor,  Mr.  C.  0 Humphreys, 
blit  on  consideration  detided  to  tnke  no  action  against 
Queensberry 

Queensberry  ciUed  on  Wilde  at  hia  house  in  Tite  Street 
witli  a prue  fightet  .and,  alter  an  insulting  interview, 
was  expelled 

Publication  The  Chameleon  containing  "Phrases  and 
Pliilosoplues  £of  the  Use  of  the  Young"  oy  Wilde 

First  pci/ormancc  of  The  Im^rtanee  of  Semg  Eemest 
It  the  St  James's  Theatre  Queensberry  unsuccessfully 
attempted  to  admission  to  the  theatre  with  the 
object  of  creating  a scene 

Queensberry  left  libellous  card  for  Wilde  at  Albemarle 
Club 

Wilde  received  Queensberry’s  card  from  hill-porter  of 
Albenmtle  Club. 

Altci  consultation  with  hw  solicitor,  Wilde  obtained  a 
winnnt  for  Queensberry’s  arrc« 

Quccnsbeny  urcsted  .nnd  charged  at  Great  Xfarlborough 
Suck  PoiiLc  Court  with  cnmuial  libel 
Qutenslwriy  commilled  for  trial. 


Oiand  July  ittuincd  a true  bill  agamst  Quccn^erry. 

Queensbeiry  filed  .imcnded  plea  of  justification. 

Trial  of  Rtg  ▼.  Queensberry  opened  at  Old  Bailey 
befoie  Plenn  Colbfls,  J. 

Withdrawal  of  prosecution  and  acquitui  of  Queensberry. 
Arrest  of  Wildc  Taken  to  Holloway  Prison 

Wilde  and  Tador  charged  jointly  at  Bow  Street  Police 
Court  with  oacnecs  under  Criminal  Law  Amendment 
Act,  18^,  see  II,  Bail  refused  by  magistrate,  Sir 
John  Bridge 

Wilde  and  Tiylor  committed  for  trial. 

Grand  Juty  returned  true  bills  against  Wilde  and 
Taylor. 

Tnal  of  Eeg  r Wilde  and  Taylor  opened  at  Old  Bailey 
bei^e  Charles,  J. 

Disagreement  of  jury  on  principal  counts  of  indictment. 

103 


7th  May 
aisc  May 

land  May 

i5tb  May 


i6th  August 
rath  November 
13th  November 
March)  1897 

igth  May 
30th  Nov.»  1900 

asrd  Feb.,  1905 
38th  May,  igo6 

1909-1910 

April,  1913 
August-September 
aotb  March,  1945 


Leading  Ontes—'-oiUmueil 

Wilde  released  00  bail  in  ;^5ooo,  pending  re-irial. 

Wilde  and  Taylor  .irrai^ned  at  Old  Bailey  before 
WilU,  J.,  who  ordered  piisoners  to  be  tried  separately. 

Taylor  found  guilty  on  all  remaining  counts  except  that 
charging  him  with  procuring  Wood  for  Wilde. 

Wilde  found  guilty  on  ail  remaining  counts  except  that 
relating  to  Edward  Shelley. 

Wilde  and  Taylor  sentenced  to  two  years’  imprisonment 
with  hard  Id^^. 

Wilde  adjudicated  bankrupt. 

Public  examination  of  Wilde  in  bankruptcy. 

Wilde  trana^ied  from  Wandsworth  to  Reading  Gaol. 

Wilde  completed  De  Profundis  in  the  form  of  a long 
letter  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  He  entrusted  the  MS. 
to  Robert  R^s,  who  retained  it  In  his  possession. 

Wilde  released  from  prison. 

Wilde  died  in  the  Hotel  d’Alsace,  Rue  des  Beaux  Arts, 
Paris. 

Robert  Ross  constituted  Wilde’s  literary  executor. 

De  Pfofundu  first  published  in  English  in  a drastically 
expurgated  edition,  with  a preface  by  Robeit  Ross, 

Wilde  estate  declared  solvent  through  payment  of  final 
dividend  giving  creditors  in  bankrupt^  los.  in  £ 
together  vtnth  4 per  cent,  interest. 

MS.  of  De  Profundh  presented  by  Robert  Ross  to  the 
British  Museum  on  condition  tlmt  it  should  remauii 
sealed  up  until  i960. 

Portions  of  the  suppressed  part  of  De  Profundis  read 
out  in  Court  during  trial  of  Douglas  v.  Ransome  before 
Darling,  J.,  in  King's  Bench  Dhrision. 

Fifteen  copia  of  the  suppressed  part  of  De  Profundis 
privately  |»inted  in  New  York  on  Robert  Ross’s  instruc- 
tions in  order  to  protect  U.S.  copyright. 

Death  of  Lord  Alfred  Douglas. 


104 


THE  TRIAL 


wrauN  THE 

CENTRAL  CRIMINAL  COURT, 
OLD  BAILEY,  LONDON 
WEDNESDAY,  3hd  APRIL,  1895. 


Judge— 

THE  HON.  MR.  JUSTICE  COLLINS 


Counsel  Jar  the  Frosecutim— 

Sir  Edward  Cum,  Q.C.,  M.P. 

Mr,  Ciwsi.b  WiiUE  Mathews, 

Mr.  Travers  HoMiiiREys. 

(Instructed  by  Messrs.  C,  0,  Humphreys,  Son,  k Kershnw) 


Counsel  for  the  Defendant,  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry — 

Mr,  Edward  Carson,  Q.C.,  M.P. 

Mr.  Charirs  Frederick  Gnt. 

Mr.  Arthur  Gill. 

(Instructed  by  Messrs,  Day,  Russell  & Company.) 


Counsel  for  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  Lord  Douglas  of  HawiV^— 

Mr.  Edward  Besley,  Q.C. 

Mr.  John  Lionel  Monckton. 

(Instructed  by  Messrs.  C.  0.  Humphreys,  Son,  & Kershaw) 

' 105 


First  Trial.  First  Day— Wednesday,  3rd  April,  1895. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns  read  out  the  following  indictment;— 

1,  First  Count. 

Central  Criminal  Court.  To  wit;  The  Jurors  for  our  Lady  the 
Queen  upon  their  oath  present  that  John  Sholto  Douglas, 
Marquess  of  Queensberry  contriving  and  maiiciously  intending  to 
injure  one  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertic  Wills  Wilde  and  to  excite  him 
to  commit  a breach  of  the  peace  and  to  bring  him  into  public  con- 
tempt scandal  and  disgrace  on  the  eighteendi  day  of  February  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-five 
and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  unlawfully  wickedly 
and  maliciously  did  write  and  publish  and  cause  to  be  written  and 
publislied  of  him  the  said  Oscir  Fingal  O’Flahcrtie  Wills  Wilde 
a false  scandalous  malicious  and  defamatory  libel  in  the  form  of  a 
card  directed  to  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flahertie  Wills  Wilde 
according  to  the  tenor  and  effect  following  that  is  to  say  “For  Oscar 
Wilde  posing  as  somdomite"  meaning  thereby  that  the  said  Oscar 
Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  had  committed  and  was  in  the 
habit  of  committing  the  abominable  crime  of  buggery  with  man- 
kind to  die  great  scandal  and  disgrace  of  the  said  Oscar  Fingal 
O’Flaherdc  Wills  Wilde  to  the  evil  example  of  all  others  in  the  like 
case  offending  And  against  the  peace  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen 
her  Crown  and  dignity. 

2.  Second  Count. 

And  the  Jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  John  Sholto  Douglas,  Marquess  of  Queens- 
berry contriving  and  maliciously  intending  to  injure  the  said  Oscar 
Fingal  O’Flahertie  WiUs  Wilde  and  to  deprive  him  of  his  good 
name  fame  credit  and  reputation  and  to  provoke  him  the  said  Oscar 
Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and  to  excite  him  to  commit  a 
breach  of  the  peace  and  to  bring  him  into  public  contempt  scandal 
and  disgrace  on  the  said  eighteenth  day  of  February  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  ninety-five  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
said  Court  unlawfully  maliciously  and  wickedly  did  write  and 
publish  and  cause  to  be  written  and  published  of  him  the  said 
Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  a false  scandalous  malicious 
and  defamatory  libel  in  the  form  of  a card  directed  to  fhe  said 
Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  containing  divers  false 
scandalous  malicious  and  defamatory  matters  of  and  concerning 
107 


Oscar  Wilde. 


the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahcrde  Wills  Wilde  according  to  tlie 
tenor  and  effect  following  that  is  to  say  “For  Oscar  Wilde  posing 
as  somdomitc”  to  the  great  damage  scandal  and  disgrace  of  the  said 
Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  to  the  evil  example  of  all 
others  in  the  like  case  offending  And  against  the  peace  of  our  said 
Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity, 

John  Sholto  Douglas,  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  pleaded  not 
guilty,  and  also  that  the  libel  was  true  and  that  it  was  for  the  public 
benefit  that  it  should  be  published.' 

The  Jury  were  sworn. 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — May  it  please  you,  ray  lord,  gentlemen  of 
the  jury.  You  have  heard  the  charge  against  the  defendant,  which 
is  that  he  published  a false  and  malicious  libel  in  regard  to  Mr. 
Oscar  Wilde.  That  libel  was  puMished  in  the  form  of  a card  left 
by  Lord  Queensberry  at  a club  to  which  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  belonged. 
It  was  a visiting  card  of  Lord  Queensberry’s,  with  his  name  printed 
upon  it,  and  it  had  written  upon  it  certain  words  which  formed  the 
libel  complained  of.  On  that  card  his  lordship  wrote:  "Oscar 
Wilde  posing  as  a sodomite,"  Of  course  it  is  a matter  of  serious 
moment  that  such  a libel  as  that  which  Lord  Queensberry  wrote 
upon  that  card  should  in  any  way  be  connected  with  a gentleman 
who  has  borne  a high  reputation  in  this  country.  The  words  of  the 
libel  are  not  direedy  an  accusation  of  the  gravest  of  all  offences— 
the  suggestion  is  that  there  was  no  guilt  of  the  actual  offence,  but 
that  in  some  way  or  other  the  person  of  whom  those  words  weie 
written  did  appear — nay,  desired  to  appear — and  pose  to  be  a person 
guilty  of  or  inclined  to  the  commission  of  the  gravest  of  all  offences. 
You  will  appreciate  that  the  leaving  of  such  a card  openly  with  flic 
porter  of  a dub  is  a most  serious  matter  and  one  likely  gravely 
to  affect  the  position  of  the  person  as  to  whom  that  injurious  sugges- 
tion was  made. 

If  we  had  to  deal  only  with  the  publication — simply  with  the 

* In  accorilana:  with  the  retrairements  oE  the  Libel  Act,  1843  (6  i 7 Viet.  c.  96), 
see.  6,  the  deEendant  had  alieady  filed  with  the  Court  a written  plea  of  justificadoji, 
which  was  signed  on  his  behalf  by  his  junior  counsel.  This  plea  was  not  put  in 
detail  to  the  jury  at  the  t^nitig,  because  the  onus  lay  with  the  defendant  tn  prove 
the  truth  of  the  libel.  However,  it  was  referred  to  by  counsel  lor  each  side  both 
in  this  and  the  later  trials;  and  to  enable  these  refctences  to  be  fully  understood 
by  the  reader,  it  is  leproduced  below  in  Appendix  A.  See  p,  341. 

108 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

Sir  Edwata  Clarke 

question  whether  the  libel  was  published,  and  witli  the  further 
question  which  would  arise,  not  lor  your  consideration,  gentlemen, 
but  for  that  of  his  lordship,  as  to  what  amount  of  blame  as  for  a 
criminal  action  should  be  thrown  upon  the  defendant  in  respect  of 
tlte  matter— tliere  would  be  considetations,  some  or  many  of  which 
might  be  brought  to  your  notice  before  this  case  ended,  whicl\ 
would  not  have  justified  such  an  action  on  the  part  of  Lord 
Queensberry,  because  it  could  not  be  justified  unless  the  statement 
were  true,  but  which,  at  all  events,  in  regaid  to  a person  in  the 
position  of  the  defendant  with  such  characteristics  as  the  evidence 
would  probably  show  that  he  had,  might  to  some  extent  have  gone 
to  extenuate  the  gravity  of  the  offence.  But  the  matter  does  not 
slop  at  the  question  whether  that  card  was  delivered,  or  whether  the 
defendant  can  in  any  way  be  excused  by  strong  feeling — ^mistaken 
feeling — ^for  having  made  that  statement.  By  the  plea  which  the 
defendant  has  brought  before  the  Court  a much  graver  issue  has. 
been  raised.  The  defendant  has  said  that  the  statement  is  true  and 
that  it  is  for  the  public  benefit  that  the  statement  was  made,  and 
he  has  given  p.irticulars  in  the  plea  of  mattci's  which  he  has  alleged 
show  that  die  statement  is  true  in  regard  to  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde. 
The  plea  has  not  been  read  to  you,  gentlemen.  There  is  no  allega- 
tion in  the  plea  that  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  has  been  guilty  of  the  offence 
of  which  I have  .spoken,  but  there  is  a series  of  accusations  in  it 
mentioning  the  names  of  persons,  and  it  is  said  with  regard  to 
those  persons  that  Mr.  Wilde  solidied  them  to  commit  with  him 
the  gr.avc  offence,  and  that  he  has  been  guilty  with  each  and  all  of 
them  of  indecent  practices.  One  would  gather  from  the  terms  of 
the  plea  that  Mr.  Wilde  has  been  unsuccessfully  soliciting  these 
persons  to  commit  the  offence  with  him,  and  that,  although  that 
offence  is  not  alleged  to  have  been  committed,  he  has  been  guilty  of 
indecent  practices.  It  is  for  those  who  have  taken  the  responsibility 
of  putting  into  the  plea  those  serious  allegations  to  satisfy  you, 
gendemen,  if  they  can,  by  credible  witnesses,  or  evidence  which 
they  think  worthy  of  consideration  and  entitled  m belief,  that  these 
allegations  are  true.  I can  understand  how  it  is  that  these  state- 
ments have  been  put  in  the  form  in  which  they  are  found,  for  these 
people,  who  may  be  called  upon  to  sustain  these  charges,  are  people 
who  will  neces-sarily  have  to  admit  in  cross-examination  that  they 
themselves  have  been  guilty  of  the  gravest  of  offences. 

Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  is  a genderoan,  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  the 
son  of  Sir  William  Wilde,  a very  distinguished  Irish  surgeon  and 
oculist,  who  did  great  public  service  as  chairman  of  the  Census 
Committee  in  Ireland.  Sir  William  Wilde  died  some  years  ago,  but 
Lady  WUde  is  still  living.  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  went  in  the  first 
log 


Oscar  Wilde. 


sir  Edward  Clarke 

instance  to  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  where  he  greatly  distinguished 
himself  for  classical  knowledge,  earning  some  of  the  conspicuous 
rewards  which  are  given  to  its  students  by  that  distinguished 
University.  His  father  wished  him  to  go  to  Oxford,  and  he  went 
to  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  where  he  had  a brilliant  career, 
obtaining  the  Newdigate  Prize  for  English  poetry.  After  leaving 
"the  University  he  devoted  himself  to  literature  in  its  artisric  side. 
In  i88i  he  published  a volume  of  poems  and  wrote  essays  on 
artistic  and  esthetic  subjects.  Many  years  ago  he  became  a very 
prominent  personality,  laughed  at  by  some  but  appreciated  by 
many,  representing  a form  of  artistic  literature  which  recommended 
itself  to  many  of  the  foremost  minds  and  most  cultivated  people. 
In  1884  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  marry  a daughter  of  the  late 
Mr.  Horace  Lloyd,  Q.C.,  and  from  that  day  to  the  present  he  has 
lived  with  his  wife,  who  has  borne  liim  two  children,  at  Titc  Street, 
Chelsea.  ITe  is  a member  of  the  Albemarle  Club. 

Among  the  friends  who  went  to  his  house  in  Tile  Street  was 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  a younger  son  of  Lord  Qucenslierry.  In 
1891  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  went  to  Tite  Street,  being  introduced  by 
a friend  of  Mr.  Wilde’s.  From  dial  lime  Mr.  Wilde  lia.s  been  a 
friend  of  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  also  of  his  mother,  Lady 
Queensberry,  from  whom,  on  her  petition,  the  Marquess  ha.s  lieeu 
divorced.  He  has  again  and  ag.iin  been  a guest  at  Lady  Queeuf, 
berry’s  houses  at  Wokingham  and  Salisbury,  being  invited  tu  iamily 
parties  there.  Lord  Alfred  Dougks  has  been  a welcome  giie.st 
at  Mr.  Wilde’s  house,  and  at  Cromer,  Goring,  Torquay,  anti 
Worthing,  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilde  were  staying  there.  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas  was  a frequent  and  invited  visitor.  Until  1893 
Mr.  Wilde  did  not  know  the  defendant  with  the  exception  that  he 
met  him  once  about  1881.  In  November,  1893,  Mr.  Wilde  and 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas  were  lunching  together  at  the  Cafd  Rnytd 
in  Regent  Street.  Lord  Queensberry  came  into  the  room.  Mr. 
Wilde  was  aware  that,  owing  to  circumstances  with  which  he  had 
nothing  to  do — owing  to  unhappy  family  troubles  which  I only 
mention  because  it  is  absolutely  necessary — there  had  been  some 
strained  feelings  between  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  his  father. 
Mr.  Wilde  suggested  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  that  it  was  a good 
oppormnity  for  him  to  speak  to  his  father  and  for  a friendly  inter- 
view. Lord  Alfred  Douglas  acted  on  the  suggestion  and  went 
across  to  Lord  Queensberry  and  spoke  to  him  and  had  a friendly 
conversation.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  brought  Lord  Queensberry  to 
the  table  where  he  and  Mr.  Wilde  sat  at  lunch,  and  Lord 
Queensberry  was  introduced  to  Mr.  Wilde  and  shook  hands  with 
him.  Lord  Queensberry  reminded  Mr.  Wilde  of  the  fact  that  twelve 
no 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution, 

sir  Edward  Clarke 

years  before  they  had  met  at  the  house  of  a friend  of  both  of 
them.  Lord  Queensberry  sat  down  and  had  lunch  with  the  two 
men.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  was  obliged  to  leave  about  half-past 
two  o’clock  and  Lord  Queensberry  remained  chatting  with  Mr. 
Wilde.  Mr.  Wilde  said  that  he  and  his  family  were  going  ta 
Torquay.  Lord  Queensberry  said  that  he  was  going  to  Torquay 
too,  to  give  a lecture,  and  asked  Mr.  Wilde  to  come  and  hear  it. 
Lord  Queensberry  did  not  go  to  Torquay,  and  he  sent  a note  to 
Mr.  Wdde  telling  him  he  was  not  going  there.  Mr.  Wilde  never 
met  Lord  Queensberry  from  that  time  until  the  early  part  of  1894. 

Between  that  time  and  1894,  Mr.  Wilde  became  aware  that 
certain  statements  were  being  made  against  his  character — do  not 
mean  by  Lord  Queensberry.  He  became  aware  of  it  in  this  way. 
There  was  a man  named  Alfred  Wood  whom  Mr.  Wilde  had  seen 
once  or  twice,  but  knew  very  litde  indeed  about.  Wood  had  been 
given  some  clothes  by  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  and  he  stated  that  in 
die  pocket  of  a coal  so  given  to  him  he  had  found  four  letters 
whicn  had  been  written  by  Mr.  Wilde  to  Lord  Alfred.  Whether 
he  did  And  them  in  the  pocket,  or  whether  he  stole  them,  is  a 
matter  on  which  we  can  only  speculate.  But,  at  all  events.  Wood 
went  to  Mr.  Wilde  early  in  r^3  and  wanted  Mr.  Wilde  to  give 
him  something  for  the  letters,  representing  that  he  was  in  great 
di.stress  and  uoublc  and  wanted  to  get  ofl  to  America.  Mr.  Wilde 
gave  him  ^15  °r  whercwidi  to  pay  his  passage.  Wood  then 
handed  over  three  very  ordinary  letters  which  Mr.  Wdde  had 
written  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  But,  as  generally  happens  when 
people  think  diey  have  got  hold  of  letters  of  some  importance,  the 
letters  of  no  importance  were  given  up,  and  that  which  was  sup- 
posed to  be  of  some  importance  was  retained.  That  was  the  case 
in  this  instance.  The  people  taking  part  in  these  transactions  were 
men  named  Wood,  Allen  and  Cliburn,  and  something  has  been 
found  out  about  this  set  of  people. 

Now,  in  1893,  Mr.  Wilde  wrote  a play,  which  afterwards  proved 
a great  success  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  A Woman  of  No 
Importance,  and  while  this  play  was  being  prepared  for  production, 
there  came  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Bcerbohm  Tree,  the  manager  of 
that  theatre,  a piece  of  paper  which  purported  to  be,  and  to  some 
extent  was,  a copy  of  a letter  which  had  been  retained  by  the 
persons  I have  named  when  the  other  letters  were  handed  over. 
On  this  paper  was  written : “Kndly  give  this  to  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde 
and  oblige  yours,”  and  then  there  followed  some  inidals.  Shortly 
afterwards  Allen  called  on  Mr.  Wilde,  and  said  he  had  the  original 
letter.  He  asked  Mr.  Wilde  to  give  him  something  for  it.  Mr. 
Wilde  absolutely  and  peremptorily  refused,  saying : “I  have  a copy 

III 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Sli'  Edward  Clarke 

of  that  letter  and  the  original  is  no  use  to  me.  1 look  upon  it  as  a 
work  of  art  I should  have  desired  to  possess  it;  but,  now  that  you 
have  been  good  enough  to  send  me  a copy,  I do  not  want  the 
ori^al."  He  then  sent  Ahen  away,  giving  him  ten  shillings  for 
himself.  Almost  immediately  afterwards  Cliburn  came  to  Mr. 
Wilde  and  said  that  AUen  had  appreciated  Mr.  Wilde’s  kindness  so 
much  that  he  sent  back  the  letter.  The  man  then  handed  over  the 
letter,  and  Mr.  Wilde  gave  him  half-a-sovereign  for  his  trouble. 

Having  once  got  the  original  letter  into  his  possession,  Mr. 
Wilde  kept  it.  He  said  tlien,  and  he  says  now,  that  he  looked  upon 
that  letter  as  a sort  of  prose  sonnet.  He  told  Allen  that  it  would 
probably  appear  in  sonnet  form,  and  in  effect  it  did  so.  On  4th 
May,  1893,  a publication  was  issued  called  The  Spirit  Lamp,  an 
Esthetic,  Literary  and  Critical  Magazine,  edited  by  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas,  and  on  the  first  page  was  a sonnet  in  French  described  as 
“A  letter  written  in  prose  poetry  by  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  to  a friend 
and  translated  into  rhymed  poetry  by  a poet  of  no  importance."® 
This  work  was  not  an  exact  reproduction  of  the  letter,  but  a 
paraphrase.  Now,  here  is  the  letter  itself ; 

My  Own  Boy, 

Your  sonnet  is  quite  lovely,  and  it  is  a maivel  that  those 
red  rose-leaf  lips  of  yours  should  have  been  made  no  less  for 
mu.sic  of  song  than  for  madness  of  kisses.  Your  slim  gilt 
soul  walks  between  passion  and  poetry.  I know  Hy.acinlhus, 
whom  Apollo  loved  so  madly,  was  you  in  Greek  days. 

Why  arc  you  alone  in  London,  and  when  do  you  go  to 
Salisbury?  Do  go  there  to  cool  your  liands  in  the  grey 
twilight  of  Gothic  things,  and  come  here  whenever  you  like. 
It  is  a lovely  place — it  only  lacks  you;  but  go  to  Salisbury 
first. 

Always,  with  undying  love, 


The  words  of  that  letter,  gentlemen,  may  appear  extravagant 
to  those  in  the  habit  of  writing  commercial  correspondence 
(Laughter),  or  those  ordinary  letters  which  the  necessities  of  life 
force  upon  one  every  day;  but  Mr.  Wilde  is  a poet,  and  the  letter 
is  considered  by  him  as  a prose  sonnet,  and  one  of  whidr  he  is  in  no 
way  ashamed  and  is  prepared  to  produce  anywhere  as  the  expression 

a Sec  The  Spirit  Lamp,  Vol,  IV,  No.  i (Oifofd.  i8<)3),  The  translator  was  the 
well-known  French  wiiter,  Pierre  Louy*. 

II2 


opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

Str  Bdward  Clarke 

of  true  poetic  feeling,  and  with  no  relation  whatever  to  the  hateful 
and  repulsive  suggestions  put  to  it  in  the  plea  in  this  case. 

In  tire  early  part  of  i8^  Lord  Queensberry  met  Mr.  Wilde  and 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas  again  at  the  Cafe  Royal.  Shortly  after  that 
Mr.  Wilde  became  aware  that  the  defendant  was  writing  letters 
that  affected  his  character  and  contained  suggestions  injurious  to 
him.  Though  he  might  reasonably — and  would  probably  if  his  own 
interests  alone  were  concerned — have  brought  this  to  some  public 
notice,  he  abstained  from  doing  so  for  reasons  which  I am  not 
entitled  to  state,  but  which  I am  sure  will  be  obvious  before  this 
case  has  gone  very  far.  And  so  the  latter  part  of  1894  passed.  At 
an  interview  in  that  year,  Mr.  Wilde  gave  instructions,  in  Lord 
Queensberry’s  hearing,  that  the  defendant  should  not  be  admitted 
into  his  house. 

Last  February  another  play  by  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde,  The 
Importance  of  Being  Earnest,  was  about  to  be  produced  at  the  St. 
James’s  Theatte.  In  the  course  of  the  day — 14th  February — 
information  reached  the  management  of  the  theatre,  and  offier 
persons,  with  regard  to  certain  intentions  on  the  part  of  Lord 
Queensberry.  It  is  a matter  of  public  dramatic  history  that  at  a 
play  written  by  the  late  Poet  Laureate,  Lord  Tennyson,  The 
Promise  of  May,  Lord  Queensberry  made  some  observations  in  lie 
public  the.itrc. 

Mr.  Carson— I do  not  sec  how  this  is  evidence. 

Mr.  Justice  Collins— It  might  be  pertinent  as  explaining  the 
extravagant  actions  of  Mr.  Wilde  towards  Lord  Queensberry. 

Sir  Edwabu  Clarke— On  that  occasion  Lord  Queensberry  got  up 
in  the  threatre  and  in  his  character  as  an  agnostic,  objected  to  the 
representation  being  put  upon  the  stage  of  an  agnostic  in  the  person 
of  Mr.  Hermann  Vezin,  He  denounced  this  character  from  his 
seat  in  the  stalls.  Of  course,  a disturbance  on  the  night  of  the 
production  of  a new  play  is  a very  serious  matter  to  author  and 
actors,  and  it  would  have  been  espedally  serious  if— as  it  probably 
would— it  had  developed  into  a personal  attack  on  the  private 
character  of  Mr.  Wilde.  Lord  Queensberry  booked  a seat  at  the 
St.  James’s  Theatre,  but  his  money  was  returned  to  him  and  the 
police  were  warned  about  him.  Lord  Queensberry  made  his  appear- 
ance in  the  course  of  the  evening  and  brought  with  him  a large 
bouquet  made  of  vegetables.  (Laughter.)  Whether  Lord  Queens- 
berry was  responsible  for  his  actions  is  a matter  on  whi(i  you, 
gendemen  of  the  jury,  may  have  some  doubts  before  this  case  has 
H ri3 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Sif  Bdward  Clarke 

ended.  Instead  of  writing  to  the  committee  of  one  oC  the  clubs  of 
which  Mr.  Wilde  was  a member,  and  asking  for  an  inquiry,  he 
got  a bunch  of  vegetables  and  came  down  to  the  theatre  on  the  first 
night  of  Mr.  Wilde’s  new  play.  Being  refused  admission  at  the 
box  office,  he  made  his  way  to  the  gallery  stairs;  but  here,  too,  die 
police  had  received  notice,  and  being  unable  to  get  admission,  Lord 
Queensberry  went  away. 

On  aStb  February  Mr.  Wilde  went  to  the  Albemarle  Club,  and 
there  received  from  the  porter  the  card  left  by  Lord  Queensberry 
on  the  i8th  of  that  month.  Hitherto,  the  accusations  had  been 
made  in  letters  to  members  of  Lord  Queensberry’s  family,  and 
thus  Mr.  Wilde  could,  if  he  had  chosen,  have  talccn  action;  but  he 
did  not  wish  to— and  he  will  not  now  further  than  can  be  avoided — 
bring  into  prominence  the  relations  of  Lord  Queensberry  with  the 
members  of  his  family.  On  ist  March  a warrant  was  applied  for, 
and  on  the  following  day  Lord  Queensberry  was  arrested.  Hence 
these  criminal  proceedings. 

There  are  two  counts  at  the  end  of  the  plea  which  are  extremely 
curious.  It  is  said  that  in  the  month  of  July,  1890,  Mr.  Wilde 
published,  or  caused  to  be  published,  with  his  name  on  the  title- 
page,  a certain  immoral  and  indecent  work  vrith  the  title  of  The 
Picture  of  Dorian  Gray,  which  book  was  intended  to  be  under- 
stood by  the  readers  to  describe  the  relations,  intirnttcics,  and 
passions  of  certain  persons  guilty  of  unnatural  practices.  And, 
secondly,  that  in  December,  1894,  was  published  a certain  immoral 
work  in  the  form  of  The  Chameleon,  relating  to  the  practices  of 
persons  of  unnatural  habits;  and  that  Mr.  Wilde  had  joined  in 
procurmg  the  publication  of  The  Chameleon,  with  his  name  on  it, 
as  the  principal  contributor,  under  the  tide  of  “Phrases  and  Philoso- 
phies for  the  Use  of  the  Young.”  Those  are  two  very  gross  allega- 
tions. I defy  my  learned  friend  to  suggest  from  these  contributions 
anything  hostile  to  the  character  of  hhr.  Wilde.  The  Chameleon 
was  numbered  Volume  I,  Number  i;  it  was  published  by  Messrs. 
Gay  8c  Bird,  of  5 Chandos  Street;  and  only  one  hundred  copies 
were  to  be  printed.  Mr.  Wilde  did  contribute  "Phrases  and  Philo- 
sophies for  rile  Use  of  the  Young,”  and  on  the  first  three  pages  there 
is  a certain  number  of  epigrammatical  statements  such  as  those 
which  many  of  us  have  enjoyed  when  being  entertained  by  such  a 
play  as  A Woman  of  No  Importance,  They  give  brilliancy  and 
effect  to  dialogue  and  they  even  supply  wisdom  in  a witty  form. 
Mr.  Wilde  is  not  responsible  for  the  rest  of  the  magazine.  It  was 
edited  by  an  Oxford  man,  who  asked  Mr.  Wilde  to  contribute.’ 

* J.  F.  Bloxanis  an  undergraduate  c{  Exeter  College. 

114 


opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

Sir  Bdrvaril  Clatlts 

Directly  Mr.  Wilde  saw  the  magazine  he  noticed  there  was  a story 
in  it  called  “ The  Priest  and  the  Acolyte,”  which  is  a disgrace  to 
literature,  which  it  is  amazing  that  anybody  wrote  and  still  more 
amazing  that  anybody  aQowed  tn  be  published  under  his  name.* 
Directly  Mr.  Wilde  saw  that  disgraceful  and  abominable  story  he 
communicated  with  the  editor,  he  indignantly  insisted  on  the 
copies  being  suppressed  and  the  magazine  was  withdrawn.  It  is 
strange  indeed,  then,  to  find  that  publication  put  upon  the  par- 
ticulars as  justifying  the  charge  against  Mr.  Wilde. 

The  volume  called  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray  is  one  which 
can  be  bought  at  any  bookstall  in  London.  It  has  Mr.  Wilde’s 
name  on  the  title  page  and  has  been  published  five  years.  The 
story  of  the  book  is  that  of  a young  man  of  good  birth,  great 
wealth  and  great  personal  beauty,  whose  friend  paints  a picture 
of  him.  Dorian  Gray  expresses  the  wish  that  he  could  remain 
as  in  the  picture,  while  the  picture  aged  with  the  years.  His  wish 
is  granted,  and  he  soon  knows  that  upon  the  picture,  and  not  upon 
his  own  face,  the  sars  of  trouble  and  bad  conduct  are  falling.  In 
the  end  he  stabs  the  picture  and  falls  dead,  and  the  picture  is 
restored  to  its  pristine  beauty,  while  his  friends  find  on  the  floor  the 
body  of  a hideous  old  man.  I shall  be  surprised  if  my  learned 
friend  can  pitch  upon  any  passage  in  that  book  which  does  more 
th.in  describe  as  novelists  and  dramatists  may — nay,  must— describe 
the  passions  and  fashions  of  life. 

Witnesses  will  be  called  who  will  prove  the  publication  of  the 
libel,  and  my  learned  friend  has  the  task  of  satisfying  you  that 
the  excuses  made  are  true. 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

SiDNBV  Wright,  examined  by  Sir  Edward  Ciaukz — I am  hall 
porter  at  the  Albemarle  Club.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oscar  Wilde  are 
members  of  the  club.  On  i8th  February  the  Marquess  of  Queens- 
berry  handed  me  the  card  which  has  been  produced.  Before 
handing  me  the  card  Lord  Queensberry  wrote  some  words  on  it. 
Lord  Queensberry  said  he  wished  me  to  give  that  to  Mr.  Wilde.  I 
looked  at  the  card  but  did  not  understand  it.  I made  an  entry  on 
the  back  of  it  of  the  date  and  the  time  at  which  it  was  handed  to 
me.  I put  it  in  an  envelope  which  I addressed  “Mr.  Oscar  Wilde.” 
When  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  came  to  the  club,  on  zStb  February,  I 

^The  atorv  was  Gigned  "X"  buc  it  was  an  open  secret  at  the  time  that  it  had 
been  written  ny  the  editor  of  the  magazine. 

II5 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Sidney  Wright 

handed  it  to  him,  saying  that  Lord  Queensberry  had  wished  me  to 
give  it  to  Mr.  Wilde. 

[Witness  was  not  cross-examined.] 

Mr.  Oscar  Whjje,  examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke— I am  the 
prosecutor  in  this  case.  I am  thirty-nine  years  o£  age.  My  father 
was  Sir  William  Wilde,  surgeon,  of  Dublin,  and  chairman  of  the 
Census  Comtnission.  He  died  when  I was  at  Oxford  in  1876.  I 
was  a student  at  Trinity  College,  where  I took  a classical  scholar- 
ship and  the  gold  medal  for  Greek.  I then  went  to  Magdalen 
College,  Oxford,  where  I took  a classical  scholarship,  a first  in 
"Mods.”  and  a first  in  "Greats,”  and  the  Newdigate  Prize  for 
English  verse.  I took  my  degree  in  1878,  and  came  down  at  once. 
From  that  time  I have  devoted  myself  to  art  and  literature.  In 
1881  I published  a volume  of  poems,  and  afterwards  lectured  in 
England  and  America.  In  1884  1 married  Miss  Lloyd,  .and  from 
that  date  till  now  have  lived  with  her  in  Tite  Street,  Chelsea.  I 
have  two  sons,  the  elder  of  whom  will  be  ten  in  June  and  tlie 
second  nine  in  November. 

In  1891  did  you  make  the  acquaintance  of  Lord  Alfred  Douglas? 
—Yes;  he  was  brought  to  ray  house  by  a friend.  Before  then  I 
had  been  acquainted  with  Lady  Queensberry,  hut  since  then  I liavc 
been  a guest  in  her  house  many  times.  I also  knew  Lord  Douglas 
of  Hawiclc  and  the  late  Lord  Drumlanrig.  Lord  Alfred  has  dined 
with  me  from  time  to  time  at  my  house  and  at  the  Albemarle 
Club,  of  which  my  wife  is  a member,  and  has  stayed  with  us  at 
Cromer,  Goring,  Worthing,  and  Torquay.  In  November,  1B92, 
I was  lunching  with  him  at  the  Cafd  Royal,  where  we  met  Lord 
Queensberry,  and  on  my  suggestion  Lord  Alfred  went  up  to  him 
and  shook  hands.  I was  aware  that  there  had  been  some  estrange- 
ment between  the  two.  Lord  Queensberry  joined  us.  Lord  Alfred 
had  to  go  away  early,  and  Lord  Queensberry  remained  and  chatted 
with  me.  Afterwards  something  was  said  about  Torquay,  and  it 
was  arranged  that  Lord  Queensberry  should  call  upon  me  there, 
but  he  did  not  come.  From  3rd  November,  1892,  till  March,  1894, 
I did  not  see  the  defendant,  but  in  1893  I heard  that  some  letters 
which  I had  addressed  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  had  come  into  the 
hands  of  certain  persons. 

Did  anyone  say  that  he  had  found  letters  of  yours? — Yes.  A 
man  named  Wood  saw  me  at  the  rooms  of  Mr.  Alfred  Taylor  and 
told  me  that  he  had  found  some  letters  in  a suit  of  clothes  which 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas  had  been  good  enough  to  give  him. 

Did  he  ask  for  anything? — ^I  don’t  diink  he  made  a direct 
demand. 

116 


• Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  WlIiU 

What  happened? — ^Whcn  he  entered  the  room  he  said:  “1 
suppose  you  will  think  very  badly  o£  me.”  I replied,  "I  hear  that 
you  have  letters  of  mine  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  which  you 
certainly  ought  to  have  given  back.”  He  handed  me  diree  or  four 
letters,  and  said  they  had  been  stolen  from  him  “the  day  before 
yesterday”  by  a man  named  Allen,  and  that  he  (Wood)  had  had 
to  employ  a detective  to  get  them  back.  I read  the  letters,  and 
said  that  I did  not  think  them  of  any  importance.  He  said,  “I 
am  very  much  afraid  of  staying  in  London,  as  this  man  and  other 
men  are  threatening  me.  I want  money  to  go  away  to  America." 
I asked  what  better  opening  as  a clerk  he  could  have  in  America 
than  in  England,  and  he  replied  that  he  was  anxious  to  get  out 
of  London  in  order  to  escape  from  the  man  who  had  taken  the 
letters  from  him.  He  made  a very  strong  appeal  to  me.  He  said 
that  he  could  find  nothing  to  do  in  London.  1 paid  him  ,([15.  The 
letters  remained  in  my  hand  all  the  time. 

Did  some  man  shortly  afterwards  come  with  another  letter? — 
A man  called  and  told  me  that  the  letter,  a copy  of  which  had  been 
sent  to  Mr.  Beerbohm  Tree,  was  not  in  his  possession.  His  name 
was  Allen. 

What  happened  at  that  interview?— I fell  that  this  was  the  man 
who  wanted  money  from  me.  I said,  "I  suppose  you  have  come 
about  my  beautiful  letter  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  If  you  had  not 
been  so  foolish  as  to  send  a copy  of  it  to  Mr.  Beerbohm  Tree,  I 
would  gladly  have  paid  you  a very  large  sum  of  money  for  the 
letter,  as  I consider  it  to  be  a work  of  art.”  He  said,  “A  very 
curious  construction  can  be  put  on  that  letter.”  I said  in  reply, 
“Art  is  rarely  intelligible  to  the  criminal  classes.”  He  said,  "A 
man  offered  me  £60  for  it.”  1 said  to  him,  “If  you  take  my  advice 
you  will  go  to  that  man  and  sell  my  letter  to  him  for  £60.  I myself 
have  never  received  so  large  a sum  for  any  prose  work  of  that 
length;  but  I am  glad  to  find  that  there  is  some  one  in  England 
who  considers  a letter  of  mine  worth  £60.”’  He  was  somewhat 
taken  aback  by  my  manner,  perhaps,  and  said,  "The  man  is  out 
of  town.”  I replied,  “He  is  sure  to  come  back,"  and  I advised  him 
to  get  tlie  £60.  He  then  changed  his  manner  a litde,  saying  that 
he  had  not  a single  penny,  and  that  he  had  been  on  many  occasions 
trying  to  find  me.  I said  that  1 could  not  guarantee  his  cab 
expenses,  but  that  I would  gladly  give  him  half-a-soverdgn.  He 
took  the  money  and  went  away. 

Was  anything  said  about  a sonnet? — Yes.  I said,  “The  letter, 
which  is  a prose  poem,  will  shortly  be  published  in  sonnet  form  in 
a delightful  magazine  and  I will  send  you  a copy  of  it.” 

117 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Wilde 

As  a matter  o£  fact,  the  letter  was  the  basis  o£  a French  poem 
that  was  published  in  The  Spirit  Lamp?— Yes. 

It  is  signed  “Pierre  Louys."  Is  that  the  nom-de-plume  of  a 
friend  of  yoursf— Yes,  a young  French  poet  of  great  distinction,  a 
friend  of  mine,  who  has  lived  in  England. 

Did  Allen  then  go  away?— Yes,  and  in  about  five  minutes 
Cliburn  came  to  the  house.  I went  out  to  him  and  said,  “I  cannot 
bother  any  more  about  this  matter.”  He  produced  the  letter  out  of 
his  pocket,  saying,  “Allen  has  asked  me  to  give  it  back  to  you.”  I 
did  not  take  it  immediately,  but  asked : “Why  does  Allen  give  me 
back  this  letter?"  He  said,  “Well,  he  says  that  you  were  kind  to 
him,  and  that  there  is  no  use  trying  to  ‘rent’  you  as  you  only  laugh 
at  us.”  1 took  the  letter  and  said,  “1  will  accept  it  back,  and  you 
can  thank  Allen  from  me  for  all  the  anxiety  he  has  shown  about 
it."  I looked  at  the  letter,  and  saw  that  it  was  extremely  soiled.  I 
said  to  him,  “I  think  it  is  quite  unpardonable  that  better  care  was 
not  taken  of  this  original  manuscript  of  mine”  (Laughter).  He  said 
he  was  very  sorry,  but  it  had  been  in  so  many  hands.  I gave  him 
half-a-sovereign  for  his  trouble,  and  then  said,  "I  am  afraid  you  arc 
leading  a wonderfully  wicked  life.”  He  said,  “There  is  good  and 
bad  in  every  one  of  us,”  I told  him  he  was  a born  philosopher, 
and  he  then  left. 

Has  the  letter  remained  in  your  possession  ever  since?--Ycs, 
I produce  it  here  to-day. 

I pass  to  the  end  of  1893.  Did  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  go  to 
Cairo  then? — ^Yes;  in  December,  1893. 

On  his  return  were  you  lunching  together  in  the  Ca{e  Royal 
when  Lord  Queensberry  came  in? — Yes.  He  shook  hands  and 
joined  us,  and  we  chatted  on  perfectly  friendly  terms  about  Egypt 
and  various  other  subjects. 

Shortly  after  that  meeting  did  you  become  aware  that  he  was 
making  suggestions  with  regard  to  your  character  and  behaviour? 
— Yes.  Those  suggestions  were  not  contained  in  letters  to  me. 
At  the  end  of  June,  1894,  there  was  an  interview  between  Lord 
Queensberry  and  myself  in  my  house.  He  called  upon  me,  not 
by  appointment,  about  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  accompanied 
by  a gentleman  with  whom  I wa.s  not  acquainted.  The  interview 
took  place  in  my  library.  Lord  Queensberry  was  standing  by  the 
window.  I walked  over  to  the  fireplace,  and  he  said  to  me,  “Sit 
down.”  I said  to  him,  “I  do  not  allow  anyone  to  talk  like  that  to 
me  in  my  house  or  anywhere  else.  I suppose  you  have  come  to 
apologize  for  the  statement  you  made  about  my  wife  and  myself 
in  letters  you  wrote  to  your  son.  I should  have  the  right  any  day 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oiur  Wilde 

I chose  to  prosecute  you  for  writing  such  a letter."  He  said,  “The 
letter  was  privileged,  as  it  was  written  to  my  son."  I said,  “How 
dare  you  say  such  things  to  me  about  your  son  and  me?”  He  said, 
“You  were  both  kicked  out  of  the  Savoy  Hotel  at  a moment’s 
notice  for  your  disgusting  conduct.”  I said,  “That  is  a lie.”  He 
said,  “You  have  taken  furnished  rooms  for  him  in  Piccadilly.”  I 
said,  “Somebody  has  been  telling  you  an  absurd  set  of  lies  about 
your  son  and  me.  I have  not  done  anything  of  the  kind.”  He  said, 
“I  hear  you  were  thoroughly  well  blackmailed  for  a disgusting  letter 
you  wrote  to  my  son.”  I said,  “The  letter  was  a beautiful  letter, 
and  I never  write  except  for  publication.”  Then  I asked : "Lord 
Queetisberry,  do  you  seriously  accuse  your  son  and  me  of  improper 
conduct?”  He  said,  “I  do  not  say  diat  you  are  it,  but  you  look 
it.”  (Laughter.) 

Mr.  JusTioB  Collins — shall  have  the  Court  cleared  if  I hear 
the  slightest  disturbance  again. 

Examination  conaBwed— “But  you  look  it,  and  you  pose  as  it, 
which  is  just  as  bad.  If  I catch  you  and  my  son  together  again  in 
any  public  restaurant  I will  thrash  you,”  I said,  “I  do  not  know 
what  the  Queensberry  rules  arc,  but  the  Oscar  Wilde  rule  is  to  shoot 
at  sight.”  I then  told  Lord  Queensberry  to  leave  my  house.  He  said 
he  would  not  do  so.  I told  him  that  I would  have  him  put  out  by 
the  police.  He  said,  “It  is  a disgusting  scandal.”  I said,  “If  it  be 
so,  you  are  the  author  of  the  scandal,  and  no  one  else.”  I then  went 
into  the  hall  and  pointed  him  out  to  my  servant.  I said,  “This  is 
the  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  tbe  most  infamous  brute  in  London. 
You  are  never  to  allow  him  to  enter  my  house  again.”  It  is  not  true 
that  I was  expelled  from  the  Savoy  Hotel  at  any  time.  Neither 
is  it  true  that  I took  rooms  in  Piccadilly  for  Lord  Queensberry’s 
son.  I was  at  the  theatre  on  the  opening  night  of  the  play.  The 
Importance  0}  Being  Earnest,  and  was  called  before  the  curtain. 
The  play  was  successful.  Lord  Queensberry  did  not  obtain  admission 
to  the  theatre.  I was  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  Lord  Queens- 
berry had  brought  a bunch  of  vegetables  with  him. 

When  was  it  you  heard  the  first  statement  affecting  your 
character?— I had  seen  communications  from  Lord  Queensberry, 
not  to  his  son,  but  to  a third  party — members  of  his  own  and  of  his 
wife’s  families,  I went  to  the  Albemarle  Club  on  the  28th  of 
February  and  received  from  the  porter  the  card  which  has  been 
produced.  A warrant  was  issued  on  the  ist  of  March. 

It  is  suggested  that  you  are  responsible  for  the  publication  of  the 
magazine  The  Chameleon,  on  the  front  page  of  which  some 
119 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Wilde 

As  a matter  uf  fact,  the  letter  was  the  basis  of  a French  twem 
that  was  published  in  The  Spirit  Lantpi — Yes. 

It  is  signed  “Pierre  Louys."  Is  that  the  noni-de-plume  of  a 
friend  of  yours?— Yea,  a young  French  poet  of  great  distinction,  a 
friend  of  mine,  who  has  lived  in  England. 

Did  Allen  then  go  away?— Yes,  and  in  about  five  minutes 
Cliburn  came  to  the  house.  I went  out  to  him  and  said,  “I  cannot 
bother  any  more  about  this  matter.”  He  produced  the  letter  out  of 
his  pocket,  saying,  “Allen  has  asked  me  to  give  it  back  to  you."  I 
did  not  take  it  immediately,  but  asked : "Why  does  Allen  give  me 
back  this  letter?”  He  said,  “Well,  he  says  that  you  were  kind  to 
him,  and  that  there  is  no  use  trying  to  ‘tent’  you  as  you  only  laugh 
at  us.”  I took  the  letter  and  said,  “I  will  accept  it  back,  and  you 
can  thank  Allen  from  me  for  all  the  anxiety  he  has  shown  about 
it."  I looked  at  the  letter,  and  saw  that  it  was  extremely  soiled.  I 
said  to  him,  “I  think  it  is  quite  unpiuilimalilc  that  belter  care  was 
not  taken  of  this  original  manuscript  of  mine"  (haughier).  lie  said 
he  was  very  sorry,  but  it  had  been  in  so  many  hamls.  I gave  him 
half-a-sovcreign  for  his  trouble,  and  llieii  saiil,  "I  am  .ifraiil  you  arc 
leading  a wonderfully  wicked  life.”  lie  saiti,  “Tlu'iv  is  good  ami 
bad  in  every  one  of  us.”  I told  liini  he  wa.s  a bni'ii  (tliilosojilur, 
and  he  then  left. 

Has  the  letter  remained  in  your  (xt.tsc.'i.sion  ever  since?  Yes. 
I produce  it  here  to-d.iy. 

I pass  to  the  end  of  1893.  Did  J/trd  Alfred  Douglas  go  lo 
Cairo  then?— Yes;  in  December,  1893. 

On  his  return  were  you  lunching  together  in  the  Cafe  Royal 
when  Lord  Queensberry  came  in?~Ycs.  lie  shwik  hands  and 
joined  us,  and  we  chatted  on  perfectly  friendly  terras  about  Egypt 
and  various  other  subjects. 

Shortly  after  that  meeting  did  you  become  aware  that  he  was 
making  suggestions  with  regard  to  your  character  and  behaviour? 
— Yes.  Those  suggestions  were  not  contained  in  letters  to  me. 
At  the  end  of  June,  1894,  there  was  an  interview  between  Lord 
Queensberry  and  myself  in  my  house.  Fie  called  upon  me,  not 
by  appointment,  about  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  accompanied 
by  a gentleman  with  whom  I was  not  acquainted.  The  interview 
wok  place  in  my  library.  Lord  Queensberry  was  standing  by  the 
window.  I walked  over  to  the  fireplace,  and  he  said  lo  me,  “Sil 
down.”  I said  to  him,  “I  do  not  allow  anyone  to  talk  like  that  to 
me  in  my  house  or  anywhere  else.  I suppose  you  have  come  to 
apologize  for  the  statement  you  made  about  my  wife  and  myself 
in  letters  you  wrote  to  your  son,  I should  have  the  right  any  day 
118 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  WUde 

I chose  to  prosecute  you  for  writing  such  a letter.”  He  said,  “The 
letter  was  privileged,  as  it  was  written  to  my  son.”  I said,  “How 
dare  you  say  such  things  to  me  about  your  son  and  me?”  He  said, 
“You  were  both  kicked  out  of  the  Savoy  Hotel  at  a moment’s 
nodee  for  your  disgusting  conduct.”  I said,  “That  is  a lie.”  He 
said,  “You  have  taken  furnished  rooms  for  him  in  Piccadilly.”  I 
said,  “Somebody  has  been  telling  you  an  absurd  set  of  lies  about 
your  son  and  me.  I have  not  done  anything  of  the  kind.”  He  said, 
“I  hear  you  were  thoroughly  well  blackmailed  for  a disgusting  letter 
you  wrote  to  my  son.”  I said,  “The  letter  was  a beautiful  letter, 
and  I never  write  except  for  publication.”  Then  I asked : “Lord 
Queensberry,  do  you  seriously  accuse  your  son  and  me  of  improper 
conduct?”  He  said,  “I  do  not  say  that  you  are  it,  but  you  look 
it.”  (Laughter.) 

Mr,  Justice  Collins — shall  have  the  Court  cleared  if  I hear 
the  slightest  disturbance  again. 

Examimuon  continued—'Eat  you  look  it,  and  you  pose  as  it, 
which  is  just  as  bad.  If  I catch  you  and  my  son  togetlicr  again  in 
any  public  restaurant  I will  thrash  you.”  I said,  “I  do  not  know 
what  the  Queensberry  rules  arc,  but  the  Oscar  Wilde  lule  is  to  shoot 
at  sight.”  I then  told  Lord  Queensberry  to  leave  my  house.  He  said 
he  would  not  do  so.  I told  him  that  I would  have  liim  put  out  by 
the  police,  He  said,  “It  is  a disgusting  scandal.”  1 said,  “If  it  be 
so,  you  are  the  author  of  the  scandal,  and  no  one  else,”  I then  went 
into  the  hall  and  pointed  him  out  to  my  servant.  I said,  “This  is 
the  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  the  most  infamous  brute  in  London. 
You  arc  never  to  allow  him  to  enter  my  house  again.”  It  is  not  true 
that  I was  expelled  from  the  Savoy  Hotel  at  any  time.  Neither 
is  it  true  that  I took  rooms  in  Piccadilly  for  Lord  Queensberry’s 
son.  I was  at  the  theatre  on  the  opening  night  of  the  play,  The 
Importance  of  Being  Earnest,  and  was  called  before  the  curtain. 
The  play  was  successful.  Lord  Queensberry  did  not  obtain  admission 
to  the  theatre.  I was  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  Lord  Queens- 
berry had  brought  a bun^  of  vegetables  with  him. 

When  was  it  you  heard  the  first  statement  aflecting  your 
character?— I had  seen  communications  from  Lord  Queensberry, 
not  to  his  son,  but  to  a third  party — ^members  of  his  own  and  of  his 
wife’s  families.  I went  to  the  Albemarle  Club  on  the  28th  of 
February  and  received  from  the  porter  the  card  which  has  been 
produced.  A warrant  was  issued  on  the  ist  of  March. 

It  is  suggested  that  you  are  responsible  for  the  publication  of  the 
magazine  The  Chameleon,  on  the  front  page  of  which  some 
irp 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Wilde 

aphorisms  of  yours  appear.  Beyond  sending  di.ai  contrihniion, 
had  you  anything  to  do  vrith  the  preparation  or  publication  of 
that  magazine? — ^No;  nothing  whatever. 

Unul  you  saw  this  number  of  The  Chameleon,  did  you  know 
anything  about  the  story  “The  Priest  and  the  Acolyte”? — Nothing 
at  all. 

Upon  seeing  that  story  in  print,  did  you  communicate  with  the 
editor? — The  editor  came  to  see  me  at  the  Cafe  Royal  to  speak  to 
me  about  it. 

Did  you  approve  of  the  story  of  “The  Priest  and  the  Acolyte”? 
— I thought  it  bad  and  indecent,  and  I strongly  disapproved  of  it. 

Was  that  disapproval  expressed  to  the  editor? — Yes. 

The  other  question  relates  to  the  book  Dorian  Gray,  Was  that 
first  published  in  serial  form? — it  was  first  published  in  Lippincott's, 
and  afterwards  in  book  form  with  some  additional  chapteis.  It 
was  much  reviewed. 

Your  attention  has  been  cidlcd  to  the  statements  which  are 
made  in  the  pleadings  referring  to  diflcrcnt  pcrsoii.s  and  ijnpiigning 
your  conduct  with  ihcm?~Ycs. 

Is  tliere  any  truth  in  any  of  these  aausations? --'I'licre  is  no 
truth  whatever  in  any  one  of  them. 

Ctoss-cxamincd  by  Mr.  Carson— -You  stated  ihiil  youi  agi'  wa.s 
tbiity-nine.  I think  you  arc  over  forty.  You  were  born  ou  ifilh 
October,  1854? — I have  no  wish  to  pose  as  being  young,  I am 
thirty-nine  or  forty.  You  have  my  certificate  and  that  settles  the 
matter. 

But  being  born  in  1854  makes  you  more  than  forty?— Ah! 
Very  well. 

What  age  is  Lord  Alfred  Douglas? — ^Lord  Alfred  Douglas  is 
about  twenty-four,  and  was  between  twenty  and  twenty-one  years 
of  age  when  I first  knew  him.  Down  to  the  time  of  the  interview 
in  Titc  Street,  Lord  Queensberry  was  friendly.  I did  not  receive 
a letter  on  3rd  April  in  which  Lord  Queensberry  desired  that  my 
acquaintance  with  his  son  should  cease.  After  the  interview  I had 
no  doubt  that  such  was  Lord  Queensberry’s  desire.  Notwithstand- 
ing Lord  Queensberry’s  protest,  my  intimacy  with  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  has  continued  down  to  the  present  moment. 

Yon  have  stayed  with  him  at  many  places?— Yes. 

At  Oxford?  Brighton  on  several  occasions?  Worthing?— Yes. 

You  never  took  rooms  for  him? — ^No. 

Were  you  at  other  places  with  him?— Yes;  at  Cromer  and  at 
Torquay. 

120 


Evidence  {or  Prosccuuon. 

Obcai  ^VUde 

And  in  vdiious  liottls  in  London? — ^Yes,  nt  one  in  Albemarle 
Sued,  iind  lu  Dovu  SLicetj  and  at  the  Savoy 

Did  you  tvei  take  lOOms  youiself  m addition  to  youi  house  in 
Tile  Sticu? — Yes;  at  lo  and  n St  James's  Place  I kept  the 
looms  horn  the  month  ot  Oaobei,  1893,  to  the  end  of  Maidi,  1894. 
Loid  Alfied  Douglas  has  suyed  in  those  chambers,  which  aie  not 
fai  from  Piccaddly.  I have  been  abioad  with  him  several  times 
and  even  lately  to  Monte  Cailo  With  rtfeience  to  the  wiitings 
which  have  been  mentioned,  it  was  not  at  Biighton,  in  20  King’s 
Road,  that  I wrote  my  article  for  The  Chameleon.  I observed 
that  there  wae  also  contiibutions  fiom  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  but 
these  weie  not  written  at  Biighton  I have  seen  them.  I thought 
them  exceedingly  beautiful  poems.  One  was  “In  Praise  of  Shame” 
and  the  othei  “Two  Loves  ” 

These  loves  They  wcie  two  boys?— Yes. 

One  boy  calls  his  love  “tiue  love,”  and  the  other  boy  calls  his 
love  "shame”? — ^Ycs. 

Dtd  you  think  that  made  any  impiopci  suggestion?— No,  none 
whatever. 

You  lead  “The  Priest  and  the  Acolyte”?— Yes. 

You  h.ive  no  douhi  wh.Uevtt  th-it  in.U  was  an  unpiopcr  stoiy? 
— Fiom  the  hteiaiy  point  of  view  it  wis  highly  improper.  It  is 
impossible  foi  a man  ol  litciatuie  to  )udge  it  otheiwise;  by  litera- 
tuic,  mianmg  tieatment,  seleetioii  of  sub)ctt,  and  the  like.  I 
thought  the  tieatment  loitcn  and  the  subject  lotten. 

You  aie  of  opinion,  I believe,  that  thete  is  no  such  thing  as  an 
immoial  book?— Yes. 

May  I take  it  that  you  think  “The  Pnest  and  the  Acolyte"  was 
not  immoial?— It  was  worse;  it  was  badly  wiitten 

Was  not  the  stoiy  that  of  a piiest  who  fell  in  love  with  a boy 
who  saved  him  at  die  altai,  and  was  discovered  by  the  rector  in 
the  priest’s  room,  and  a scandal  arose? — I have  read  it  only  once, 
in  last  November,  and  nothmg  will  induce  me  to  read  it  agam  I 
don’t  care  foi  it.  It  doesn't  interest  me. 

Do  you  tbnk  the  story  blasphemous? — I think  it  violated  every 
aitisuc  canon  of  beauty. 

That  IS  not  an  answer? — ^It  is  the  only  one  I can  give. 

I want  to  see  the  position  you  pose  in? — I do  not  think  you 
should  say  that. 

I have  said  nothing  out  of  the  way.  I wish  to  know  whether 
yon  thought  the  story  blasphemous  ^ — ^The  stoiy  filled  me  with 
disgust.  The  end  was  wrong. 

Answer  the  question,  sir.  Did  you  or  did  you  not  consider 
the  story  blasphemous?— I thought  it  disgusting. 

121 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Wilde 

I am  satisfied  with  that.  You  know  that  when  the  priest  in  the 
story  administers  poison  to  the  boy,  he  uses  the  words  of  the 
sacrament  of  the  Church  of  England? — ^That  I entirely  forgot. 

Do  you  consider  that  blasphemous? — think  it  is  horrible. 
"Blasphemous”  is  not  a word  of  mine. 

[Mr.  Carson  then  read  the  following  extract  from  "The  Priest 
ana  the  Acolyte.”]  ; 

Just  before  the  consecration  the  priest  took  a tiny  phial 
from  the  pocket  of  his  cassock,  blessed  it,  and  poured  the 
contents  into  the  chalice. 

When  the  time  came  for  him  to  receive  from  the  chalice, 
he  raised  it  to  his  lips,  but  did  not  taste  of  it. 

He  administered  the  sacred  wafer  to  the  child,  and  then 
he  took  his  hand;  he  turned  towards  him;  but  when  he  saw 
the  light  in  the  bcaudtul  face  he  turned  again  to  the  crucifix 
with  a low  moan.  For  one  instant  his  courage  failed  him; 
then  he  turned  to  the  little  fellow  again,  and  held  the  chalice 
to  his  lips: 

"The  Blood  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  which  was  shed  for 
thee,  preserve  thy  body  and  .soul  unto  cverlasling  life.” 

Cross-examination  continued — ^Do  yon  approve  of  those  words? 
—I  think  them  disgusting,  perfect  twaddle. 

I thinlc  you  will  admit  that  any  one  who  would  approve  of  such 
an  article  would  pose  as  guilty  of  improper  practices? — 1 do  not 
think  so  in  the  person  of  another  contributor  to  the  magazine.  It 
would  show  very  bad  literary  taste.  I strongly  objected  to  the 
whole  story.  I took  no  steps  to  express  disapproval  of  Tfie 
Chameleon  because  I think  it  would  have  been  beneath  my  dignity 
as  a man  of  letters  to  associate  myself  with  an  Oxford  under- 
graduate’s productions.  I am  aware  that  the  magazine  may  have 
been  circulated  among  the  undergraduates  of  Oxfmd.  I do  not 
believe  that  any  book  or  work  of  art  ever  had  any  cflcct  whatever 
on  morality. 

Am  I right  in  saying  that  you  do  not  consider  the  effect  in 
creating  morality  or  immorality?— Certainly,  I do  not. 

So  far  as  your  works  are  concerned,  you  po.se  tis  not  being 
concerned  about  morality  or  immorality?— I do  not  know  whether 
you  use  the  word  “pose”  in  any  particular  sense. 

It  is  a favourite  word  of  your  own? — Is  it?  I have  no  pose  in 
this  matter.  In  writing  a play  or  a book,  I am  concerned  endrely 
with  literature— that  is,  widi  art.  I aim  not  at  doing  good  or  evil, 
122 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Wilde 

but  ill  trying  to  make  a thing  that  will  have  some  quality  o£ 
beauty. 

Listen,  sir.  Here  is  one  of  the  “Phrases  and  Philosophies  for  the 
Use  of  the  Young”  which  you  contributed ; “Wickedness  is  a myth 
invented  by  good  people  to  account  for  the  curbus  attractiveness  of 
others.”  You  think  that  true? — rarely  tliink  that  anything  I 
write  is  true. 

Did  you  say  “rarely”.'' — I said  “rarely."  I might  have  said 
“never” — ^not  true  in  the  actual  sense  of  the  word. 

“Religions  die  when  they  are  proved  to  be  true."  Is  that  true? 
—Yes;  I hold  that.  It  is  a suggestion  towards  a philosophy  of  the 
absorption  of  religions  by  science,  but  it  is  too  big  a question  to  go 
into  now. 

Do  you  think  that  was  a safe  axiom  to  put  forward  for  the 
philosophy  of  the  young?— Most  stimulating. 

“If  one  tells  the  truth,  one  is  sure,  sooner  or  later,  to  be  found 
out”?— That  is  a pleasing  paradox,  but  I do  not  set  very  high 
store  on  it  as  an  axiom. 

Is  it  good  for  the  young? — ^Anything  is  good  that  stimulates 
thought  in  whatever  age. 

Whether  moral  or  immoral?— There  is  no  such  thing  ns  morality 
or  immorality  in  thought.  There  is  immoral  emotion. 

“Pleasure  is  the  only  thing  one  should  live  for”? — I think  that 
the  realization  of  oneself  is  the  prime  aim  of  life,  and  to  realize 
oneself  through  pleasure  is  finer  than  to  do  so  through  pain.  I am, 
on  that  point,  entirely  on  the  side  of  the  ancients— the  Greeks.  It 
is  a pagan  idea. 

"A  truth  ceases  to  be  true  when  more  than  one  person  believes 
in  it"? — ^Perfectly.  That  would  be  my  metaphysical  definition  of 
truth;  something  so  personal  that  the  same  truth  could  never  be 
appreciated  by  two  minds. 

“The  condition  of  perfection  is  idleness : the  aim  of  perfection 
is  youth”? — Oh,  yes;  I thiuk  so.  Half  of  it  is  true.  The  life  of 
contemplation  is  the  highest  life,  and  so  recogiuzed  by  the 
philosopher. 

“There  is  something  tragic  about  the  enormous  number  of  young 
men  there  are  in  England  at  the  present  moment  who  start  life 
with  perfect  profiles,  and  end  by  adopting  some  useful  profession”? 
—I  should  tlunk  that  the  young  have  enough  sense  of  humour. 

You  think  that  is  humorous? — ^I  think  it  is  an  amusing  paradox, 
an  amusing  play  on  words. 

What  would  anybody  say  would  be  the  effect  of  “Phrases  and 
Philosophies”  taken  In  connexion  with  such  an  article  as  “The 
Priest  and  the  Acolyte”?— Undoubtedly  it  was  the  idea  that  might 
123 


Oscar  Wilde. 


OscM  Wilds 

be  formed  that  made  me  object  so  strongly  to  the  stoiy.  1 saw  at 
once  that  maxims  that  were  perfectly  nonsensical,  paradoxical,  or 
anything  you  like,  might  be  read  in  conjunction  witli  it. 

. After  the  criucisms  that  were  passed  on  Dorian  Gray,  was  it 
modified  a good  deal?— No.  Additions  were  made.  In  one  case 
it  was  pointed  out  to  me — not  in  a newspaper  or  anytliing  of  that 
sort,  but  by  the  only  critic  of  the  century  whose  opinion  1 set  high, 
Mr.  Walter  Pater— tliat  a certain  passage  was  liable  to  misconstruc- 
tion, and  I made  an  addition.* 

This  is  in  your  introduction  to  Dorian  Gray:  “There  is  no  such 
thing  as  a moral  or  an  immoral  book.  Books  are  well  written,  or 
badly  written.”  That  expresses  your  view? — My  view  on  art,  yes. 

Then,  I take  it,  that  no  matter  how  immoral  a book  may  be,  if 
it  is  well  written,  it  is,  in  your  opinion,  o good  book?— Yes,  if  it 
were  well  written  so  as  to  produce  a sense  of  beauty,  which  is  the 
highest  sense  of  which  a human  being  can  be  capable.  If  it  were 
badly  writtai,  it  would  produce  a sense  of  disgust. 

Then  a well-written  book  putting  forward  perverted  mural  views 
may  be  a good  book?— No  work  of  art  ever  puls  forward  views. 
Views  belong  to  people  who  are  not  artists. 

A perverted  novel  might  be  a good  book?— I don’t  know  what 
you  mean  by  a "perverted''  novel. 

Then  I will  suggest  Dorian  Gray  as  open  to  die  interpretation 
of  being  such  a novel? — ^That  could  only  be  to  liruLcs  and  illiterates. 
The  views  of  Philistines  on  art  are  incalculably  stupid. 

An  illiterate  person  reading  Dorian  Gray  might  eon.si(lcr  it  such 
a novel?- The  views  of  illiterates  on  art  are  unaccoimlahle.  I am 
concerned  only  with  my  view  of  art.  I don’t  care  twopence  what 
other  people  think  of  it. 

The  majority  of  persons  would  come  under  your  definition  of 
Philistines  and  illiterates? — I have  found  wonderful  exceptions. 

Do  you  think  that  the  majority  of  people  live  up  to  the  position 
you  arc  giving  us? — I am  afraid  they  are  not  cultivated  enough. 

Not  cultivated  enough  to  draw  the  distinction  between  a good 
book  and  a bad  book? — Certainly  not. 

The  affection  and  love  of  the  artist  of  Dorian  Gray  might  lead 
an  ordinary  individual  to  believe  that  it  might  have  a certain 
tendency? — I have  no  knowledge  of  the  views  of  ordinary  indivi- 
duals. 

You  did  not  prevent  the  ordinary  individual  from  buying  your 
look?— i have  never  discouraged  him. 

® This  passage  'waB  pmbably  the  one  which  Carson  later  asserted  had  been 
“left  out  in  the  purged  OTition.”  Sec  below,  p,  138. 

174 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oicit  WIMd 

[Mr.  Causon  ihcn  read  the  following  extracts  from  The  Picture 
of  Dorian  Q-ay,  in  which  the  painter  Basil  Hallward  tells  Lord 
Henry  Wooton  of  his  first  meetings  with  Dorian  Gray.  The 
quotations  were  from  the  original  version  of  the  work  as  it 
appeared  in  IJppincott's  Monthly  Magazine  for  July,  iSgo.] 

. The  story  is  simply  this.  Two  months  ago  I went  to 
a crush  at  Lady  Brandon’s.  You  know  we  poor  painters  have 
to  show  ourselves  in  society  from  time  to  time,  just  to  remind 
the  public  that  we  are  not  savages.  With  an  evening  coat  and 
a white  tie,  as  you  told  me  once,  anybody,  even  a stockbroker, 
can  gain  a reputation  for  being  civilized.  Well,  after  I had 
been  in  the  room  about  ten  minutes,  talking  to  huge  over- 
dressed dowagers  and  tedious  Academicians,  I suddenly 
became  conscious  that  some  one  was  looking  at  me.  I turned 
half-way  round,  and  saw  Dorian  Gray  for  the  first  time. 
When  our  eyes  met,  I felt  that  I was  growing  pale.  A curious 
instinct  of  terror  came  over  me.  I knew  that  I had  come 
face  to  face  with  some  one  whose  mere  personality  was  so 
fascinating  that,  if  I allowed  it  to  do  so,  it  would  absorb  my 
whole  nature,  my  whole  soul,  my  very  art  itself.  1 did  not 
want  any  external  induence  in  my  life.  You  know  yourself, 
Harry,  how  independent  I am  by  nature.  My  father  destined 
me  for  the  army.  I insisted  on  going  to  Oxford.  Then  he 
made  me  enter  my  name  at  the  Middle  Temple.  Before  I 
had  eaten  half  a dozen  dinners  I gave  up  the  Bar,  and 
announced  my  intention  of  becoming  a painter.  I have 
always  been  my  own  master;  had  at  least  always  been  so,  till 
I met  Dorian  Gray.  Then — but  I don’t  know  how  to  explain 
it  to  you.  Something  seemed  to  tell  me  that  I was  on  the 
verge  of  a terrible  crisis  in  my  life.  I had  a strange  feeling 
that  Fate  had  in  store  for  me  exquisite  joys  and  exquisite 
sorrows.  I knew  that  if  I spoke  to  Dorian  I would  become 
absolutely  devoted  to  him,  and  that  1 ought  not  to  speak  to 
him.  I grew  afraid,  and  turned  to  quit  the  room.  It  was 
not  conscience  that  made  me  do  so;  it  was  cowardice.  I 
take  no  credit  to  myself  for  trying  to  escape.” 

“Conscience  and  cowardice  are  really  the  same  things, 
Basil.  Consdcnce  is  the  trade-name  of  the  firm.  • That  is  all.” 

“I  don’t  believe  that,  Harry.  However,  whatever  was 
my  motive— and  it  may  have  been  pride,  for  I used  to  be  very 
proud— I certainly  struggled  to  the  door.  There,  of  course, 
I stumbled  against  Lady  Brandon.  “You  are  not  going  to 
run  away  so  soon,  Mr.  Hallward?’  she  screamed  out.  You 
know  her  shrill  horrid  voice?" 

115 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  'Wilde 

“Yes,  she  is  a peacocl;  in  evcryihing  but  beauty,”  said  Lord 
Henry,  pulling  the  daisy  to  bits  with  his  long,  nervous  fingers. 

“1  could  not  get  rid  of  her.  She  brought  me  up  to 
Royalties,  and  people  with  Stars  and  Garters,  and  elderly 
ladies  with  gigantic  tiaras  and  hooked  noses.  She  spoke  of 
me  as  her  dearest  friend.  I had  only  met  her  once  before, 
but  she  took  it  into  her  head  to  lionize  me.  I believe  some 
picture  of  mine  had  made  a great  success  at  the  time,  at  least 
had  been  chattered  about  in  the  penny  newspapers,  which  is 
the  nineteenth'ccnmry  standard  of  immortality.  Suddenly  I 
found  myself  face  to  face  with  the  young  man  whose  per- 
sonality had  so  strangely  stirred  me.  We  ■were  quite  close, 
almost  touching.  Our  eyes  met  again.  It  was  mad  of  me, 
but  I asked  Lady  Brandon  to  introduce  me  to  him.  Perhaps  it 
was  not  so  mad,  after  all.  It  was  simply  inevitable.  We 
would  have  spoken  to  each  other  without  introduction.  I 
am  sure  of  that.  Dorian  told  me  so  afterwards.  He,  too, 
felt  that  we  were  destined  to  know  each  other.” 

“.  . . Tell  me  more  about  Dorian  Gray.  How  often  do 
you  see  him?” 

“Every  day.  I couldn’t  be  happy  if  I didn’t  see  him  every 
day.  Of  course  sometimes  it  is  only  for  a few  minutes.  But 
a few  rainiucs  with  .somebody  one  worships  means  a great 
deal." 

“But  you  don’t  really  worship  him?” 

“I  do.” 

“How  extraordinary  I I thought  you  would  never  care 
for  anything  but  your  painting~yoiir  art,  I should  say.  Art 
sounds  better,  doesn’t  it?" 

“He  is  all  my  art  to  me  now.  I sometimes  thmk,  Hariw, 
that  there  are  only  two  eras  of  any  hnportance  in  the  history 
of  the  world.  The  first  is  the  appearance  of  a new  medium 
for  art,  and  the  second  is  the  appearance  of  a new  personality 
for  art  also.  What  the  invention  of  oil-painting  was  to  the 
Venetians,  the  face  of  Andnoiis  was  to  late  Greek  sculpture, 
and  the  face  of  Dorian  Gray  will  some  day  be  to  me.  It  is 
not  merely  that  I paint  from  him,  draw  from  him,  model  from 
him.  Of  course  I have  done  all  that.  He  has  stood  as  Paris 
in  dainty  armour,  and  as  Adonis  with  huntsman’s  cloak  and 
polished  boar-spear.  Crowned  with  heavy  lotus-blossoms,  he 
has  sat  on  the  prow  of  Adrian’s  barge,  looking  into  the  green, 
turbid  Nile.  He  has  leaned  over  the  still  pool  of  some  Greek 
woodland,  and  seen  in  the  water’s  silent  silver  the  wonder  of 
his  own  beauty.  But  he  is  much  more  to  me  than  that.  I 
126 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscat  Wilde 

won’t  tell  you  that  I am  dissatisfied  with  what  I have  done 
of  him,  or  that  his  beauty  is  such  that  art  cannot  express  it. 
There  is  nothing  that  art  cannot  express,  and  I know  that 
the  work  I have  done  since  I met  Dorian  Gray  is  good  work, 
is  the  best  work  of  my  life.  But  in  some  curious  way — I 
wonder  will  you  understand  me? — ^his  personality  has  sug- 
gested to  me  an  entirely  new  manner  in  art,  an  entirely  new 
mode  of  style.  I see  things  differently,  I think  of  them 
difierently.  I can  now  re-create  life  in  a way  that  was  hidden 
from  me  before.  ‘A  dream  of  form  in  days  of  thought’— who 
IS  it  who  says  that?  I forget,  but  it  is  what  Dorian  Gray  has 
been  to  me.  The  merely  vi^le  presence  of  this  lad— for  he 
seems  to  me  little  more  than  a lad,  though  he  is  really  over 
twenty — his  merely  visible  presence — ahl  I wonder  can  you 
realize  all  that  that  means?  Unconsciously  he  defines  for  me 
the  lines  of  a fresh  school,  a school  that  is  to  have  in  itself  all 
the  passion  of  the  romantic  spirit,  all  the  perfection  of  the 
spirit  that  is  Greek.  The  harmony  of  soul  and  body— how 
much  that  is  I We  in  our  madness  have  separated  the  two, 
and  have  invented  a realism  that  is  bestial,  an  ideality  that  is 
void,  Harry  I Harry  I if  you  only  knew  what  Dorian  Gray 
is  to  me  I You  remember  that  landscape  of  mine,  for  which 
Agnew  offered  me  such  a huge  price,  but  which  I would  not 
part  with?  It  is  one  of  the  best  things  I have  ever  done. 
And  why  is  it  so?  Because,  while  1 was  painting  it,  Dorian 
Gray  sat  beside  me." 

"Basil,  this  is  quite  wonderful  I I must  see  Dorian  Gray.” 

Cross-examination  continued— l^ow  I ask  you,  Mr.  Wilde,  do 
you  consider  that  that  description  of  the  feeling  of  one  man  towards 
a youth  just  grown  up  was  a proper  or  an  improper  feeling? — I 
thinlt  it  is  the  most  perfect  description  of  what  an  artist  would 
feel  on  meeting  a beaudful  personality  that  was  in  some  way 
necessary  to  his  art  and  life. 

You  think  that  is  a feeling  a young  man  should  have  towards 
another?- Yes,  as  an  artist. 

[Counsel  began  to  read  another  extract  from  the  book.  Witness 
asked  for  a copy  and  was  given  one  of  the  original  version.*] 

Mr.  Carson  (in  calling  wimess’s  attention  to  the  place— 

^ For  a list  oi  the  passages  in  this  version  which  were  omitted  or  altered  when 
the  work  was  published  in  book  form  in  1891,  see  Stuart  Mason's  Art  and  Morality 
(and  ed.,  1912). 


Oscar  Wilde. 


0<car  Wilde 

“Yes,  she  is  a peacock  in  everything  but  beauty,’’  said  Lord 
Henry,  pulling  the  daisy  to  bits  with  his  long,  nervous  fingers. 

“I  could  not  get  rid  of  her.  She  brought  me  up  to 
Royalties,  and  people  with  Stars  and  Garters,  and  elderly 
ladies  witli  gigantic  tiaras  and  hooked  noses.  She  spoke  of 
me  as  her  dearest  friend.  I had  only  met  her  once  before, 
but  she  took  it  into  her  head  to  lionize  me.  I believe  some 
picture  of  mine  had  made  a great  success  at  the  time,  at  least 
had  been  chattered  about  in  the  penny  newspapers,  which  is 
the  nineteenth-century  standard  of  immoitality.  Suddenly  I 
found  myself  face  to  face  with  the  young  man  whose  per- 
sonality had  so  strangely  stirred  me.  Wc  were  quite  close, 
almost  touching.  Our  eyes  met  again.  It  was  mad  of  me, 
but  I asked  Lady  Brandon  to  introduce  me  to  him.  Perhaps  it 
was  not  so  mad,  after  all.  It  was  simply  inevitable.  Wc 
would  have  spoken  to  each  other  without  introduction.  I 
am  sure  of  that.  Dorian  told  me  so  afterwards.  He,  too, 
felt  that  we  were  destined  to  know  each  otlter.” 

"...  Tell  me  more  about  Dorian  Gray.  Plow  often  do 
you  see  him?" 

"Every  day.  I couldn't  be  happy  if  I didn’t  see  him  every 
day.  Of  course  .sometimes  it  is  only  for  a few  minutes.  But 
a few  minutes  with  somebody  one  worships  means  a great 
deal.” 

“But  you  don't  really  worship  him?" 

"I  do," 

"Plow  extraordinary!  I thought  you  would  never  care 
for  anything  but  your  painting — ^your  art,  I should  say.  Art 
sounds  better,  doesn’t  it?” 

"He  is  all  my  art  to  me  now.  I sometimes  think,  Harry, 
that  there  are  only  two  eras  of  any  importance  in  the  history 
of  the  world.  The  first  is  the  appearance  of  a new  medium 
for  art,  and  the  second  is  the  appearance  of  a new  personality 
for  art  also.  What  the  invention  of  oil-painting  was  to  the 
Venetians,  the  face  of  Antinous  was  to  late  Greek  sculpture, 
and  the  face  of  Dorian  Gray  will  some  day  be  to  me.  It  is 
not  merely  that  I paint  from  him,  draw  from  him,  model  from 
him.  Of  course  I have  done  aU  that.  He  has  stood  as  Paris 
in  dainty  armour,  and  as  Adonis  with  huntsman’s  cloak  and 
polished  boar-spear.  Crowned  with  heavy  lotus-blossoms,  he 
has  sat  on  the  prow  of  Adrian’s  barge,  looking  into  the  green, 
turbid  Nile.  He  has  leaned  over  the  still  pool  of  some  Greek 
woodland,  and  seen  in  the  water’s  silent  silver  the  wonder  of 
his  own  beauty.  But  he  is  much  more  to  me  than  that,  I 
126 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscai  WlUe 

won’t  tell  you  that  I am  dissatisfied  with  what  I have  done 
o£  him,  or  that  his  beauty  is  such  that  art  cannot  express  it. 
There  is  nothing  that  art  cannot  express,  and  I know  that 
the  work  I have  done  since  I met  Dorian  Gray  is  good  work, 
is  the  best  work  q£  my  life.  But  in  some  curious  way — I 
wonder  will  you  understand  me?— his  personality  has  sug- 
gested to  me  an  entirely  new  manner  in  art,  an  entirely  new 
mode  of  style.  I see  things  differently,  I think  of  them 
differently.  I can  now  re-create  life  in  a way  that  was  hidden 
from  me  before.  ‘A  dream  of  form  in  days  of  thought’— who 
is  it  who  says  that?  I forget,  but  it  is  what  Dorian  Gray  has 
been  to  me.  The  merely  visible  presence  of  this  lad— for  he 
seems  to  me  little  more  than  a lad,  though  he  is  really  over 
twenty — his  merely  visible  presence — ahl  I wonder  can  you 
realize  all  that  that  means?  Unconsciously  he  defines  for  me 
the  lines  of  a fresh  school,  a school  that  is  to  have  in  itself  all 
the  passion  of  the  romantic  spirit,  all  the  perfection  of  the 
spirit  that  is  Greek.  The  harmony  of  soul  and  body— how 
much  that  isl  We  in  our  madness  have  separated  the  two, 
and  have  invented  a realism  that  is  bestial,  an  ideality  that  is 
void.  Harry!  Harry!  if  you  only  knew  what  Dorian  Gray 
is  to  mel  You  remember  that  landscape  of  mine,  for  which 
Agnew  offered  me  such  a huge  price,  but  which  I would  not 
part  with?  It  is  one  of  the  best  things  I have  ever  done. 
And  why  Is  it  so?  Becau«,  while  I was  painting  it,  Dorian 
Gray  sat  beside  me." 

"Basil,  this  is  quite  wonderful!  I must  see  Dorian  Gray." 

Cross-examination  continued — Now  I ask  you,  Mr.  Wilde,  do 
you  consider  that  that  description  of  the  feeling  of  one  man  towards 
a youth  just  grown  up  was  a proper  or  an  improper  feeling?— I 
thinlc  it  is  the  most  perfect  description  of  what  an  artist  would 
feel  on  meeting  a beautiful  personality  that  was  in  some  way 
necessary  to  his  art  and  life. 

You  think  that  is  a feeling  a young  man  should  have  towards 
another?— Yes,  as  an  artist. 

[Counsel  began  to  read  another  extract  from  tire  book.  Witness 
asked  for  a copy  and  was  given  one  of  the  original  version.'] 

Mr.  Carson  (in  calling  wimess’s  attention  to  the  place— 

^ For  a list  o£  the  passages  in  this  version  which  were  omitted  or  altered  when 
the  work  was  published  in  Book  form  in  1891,  see  Stuart  Mason’s  Art  and  Uoralip^ 
(and  ed.,  I9i2;« 


127 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Osen  Wilde 

Lippincott’s  Monthly  Magazine,  Vol.  XLVI,  .it  p.  56)— I believe  it 
was  left  out  in  the  purged  edition. 

Witness — I do  not  call  it  purged. 

Mr.  Carson— Yes,  I know  that;  but  we  will  see. 

"Let  us  sit  down,  Dorian,”  said  Hallward,  looking  pale 
and  pained.  “Let  us  sic  down.  I will  sit  in  the  shadow,  and 
you  shall  sit  in  the  sunlight.  Our  lives  arc  like  that.  Just 
answer  me  one  question.  Have  you  noticed  in  the  picture 
something  that  you  did  not  like? — something  that  probably  at 
first  did  not  strike  you,  but  that  revealed  itself  to  you 
suddenly?" 

“Basil I"  cried  the  lad,  clutching  the  arms  of  his  chair 
with  trembling  hands,  and  gazing  at  him  with  wild,  startled 
eyes. 

"I  see  you  did.  Don’t  speak.  W.iit  till  you  hear  what  I 
have  to  say.  It  is  quite  true  that  I have  worshipped  you  with 
far  more  romance  of  feeling  than  a man  usually  gives  to  a 
friend.  Somehow,  I have  never  loved  a woman.  I suppose  I 
never  had  time.  Perhaps,  as  Harry  says,  a really  ‘grande 
passion’  is  tlte  privilege  of  those  wlio  have  nothing  to  do, 
and  that  is  the  use  of  the  idle  classes  in  a country,  Well, 
from  the  moment  I met  you,  your  personality  had  the  most 
extraordinary  influence  over  me.  I quite  admit  that  I adored 
you  madly,  extravagantly,  absurdly.  I was  jealous  of  every 
one  to  whom  you  spoke.  I wanted  to  have  you  all  to  myself. 
I was  only  happy  when  I was  with  you.  When  I was  away 
from  you,  you  were  sdll  present  in  my  art.  It  was  all  wrong 
and  foolish.  It  is  all  wrong  and  foolish  sdll.  Of  course  I 
never  let  you  know  anything  about  this.  It  would  liave  been 
impossible.  You  would  not  have  understood  it;  I did  not 
understand  it  myself.  One  day  I determined  to  paint  a 
wonderful  portrait  of  you.  It  was  to  have  been  my  master- 
piece. It  is  my  masterpiece.  But,  as  I worked  at  it,  every 
flake  and  film  of  colour  seemed  to  me  to  reveal  my  secret.  I 
grew  afraid  that  the  world  would  know  of  my  idolatry.  I 
felt,  Dorian,  that  I had  told  too  much.  Then,  it  was  that  I 
resolved  never  to  allow  the  picture  to  be  exhibited.  You  were 
a litde  annoyed;  but  then  you  did  not  realize  all  that  it 
meant  to  me.  Harry,  to  whom  I talked  about  it,  laughed  at 
me.  But  I did  not  mind  that.  When  the  picture  was  finished, 
and  I sat  alone  with  it,  I felt  that  I was  right.  Well,  after 
128 


EDWARD  CABSOK,  Q.C.,  M.P. 
By  “Lib” 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

OturWIde 

a few  days  the  portrait  left  my  studio,  and  as  soon  as  I had 
got  rid  of  the  intolerable  fascination  of  its  presence  it  seemed 
to  me  that  I had  been  foolish  in  imagining  that  I had  said 
anything  in  it,  more  than  that  you  were  extremely  good- 
looking  and  that  I could  paint.  Even  now  I cannot  help 
feeling  that  it  is  a mistake  to  think  that  the  passion  one  feds 
in  creation  is  ever  really  shown  in  the  work  one  creates. 
Art  is  more  abstract  than  we  fancy.  Form  and  colour  tell  us 
of  form  and  colour — that  is  all.  It  often  seems  to  me  that  art 
conceals  the  ardst  far  more  completely  than  it  ever  reveals 
him.  And  so  when  I got  this  offer  from  Paris  I determined 
to  make  your  portrait  the  principal  thing  in  my  exhibition. 
It  never  occurred  to  me  that  you  would  refuse.  I see  now 
that  you  were  right.  The  picture  must  not  be  shown.  You 
must  not  be  angry  with  me,  Dorian,  for  what  I have  told 
you.  As  I said  to  Harry,  once,  you  arc  made  to  be 
worshipped.” 

Cfoss-txamination  contintied—Do  you  mean  to  say  that  that 
passage  describes  the  natural  feeling  of  one  man  towards  another? 
—It  would  be  the  Influence  produced  by  a beautiful  personality. 

A beautiful  person?—!  said  a “beauiiful  personality."  You  can 
describe  it  as  you  like.  Dorian  Gray’s  was  a most  remarkable 
pci'sonnliWt 

May  I take  it  that  you,  as  an  artist,  have  never  known  the 
feeling  described  here? — ^I  have  never  allowed  any  personality  to 
domin.atc  my  art. 

Then  you  have  never  known  the  feeling  you  described?— No. 
It  is  a work  of  fiction. 

So  far  as  you  are  concerned  you  have  no  experience  as  to  its 
being  a natural  feeling? — I think  it  is  perfectly  natural  for  any 
artist  to  admire  intensely  and  love  a young  man.  It  is  an  incident 
in  the  life  of  almost  every  artist. 

But  let  us  go  over  it  phrase  by  phrase.  “I  quite  admit  that  I 
adored  you  madly.”  What  do  you  say  to  that?  Have  you  ever 
adored  a young  man  madly? — ^No,  not  madly;  I prefer  love— that 
is  a higher  form. 

Never  mind  about  that.  Let  us  keep  down  to  the  level  we  are 
at  now? — I have  never  given  adoration  to  anybody  except  myself. 
(Loud  laughter.) 

I suppose  you  think  that  a very  smart  thing?— Not  at  all. 

Then  you  have  never  had  that  feeling? — No.  The  whole  idea 
was  borrowed  from  Shakespeare,  1 regret  to  say— yes,  from 
Shakespeare’s  sonnets. 

I 


129 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscnf  Wtiae 

I believe  you  have  written  an  article  to  show  tltat  Shakespeare's 
sonnets  were  suggestive  o£  unnatural  vice?— On  the  contrary  I have 
written  an  article  to  show  that  they  are  not.'  I objected  to  such  a 
perversion  being  put  upon  Shakespeare. 

“I  have  adored  you  extravagandy”? — ^Do  you  mean  financially? 

Oh,  yes,  financially]  Do  you  think  we  are  talking  about 
finance? — I don’t  know  what  you  are  talking  about. 

Don’t  you?  Well,  I hope  I shall  make  myself  very  plain  before 
I have  done.  ‘‘I  was  jealous  of  every  one  to  whom  you  spoke." 
Have  you  ever  been  jealous  of  a young  man? — Never  in  my  life. 

"I  wanted  to  have  you  all  to  myself.”  Did  you  ever  have  that 
feeling?— No;  I should  consider  it  an  intense  nuisance,  an  intense 
bore. 

"I  grew  afraid  that  the  world  would  know  of  my  idolatry.” 
Why  should  he  grow  afraid  that  the  world  should  know  of  it? — 
Because  there  aie  people  in  the  world  who  cannot  understand  the 
intense  devotion,  affection,  and  admiration  that  an  ardst  can  feel 
for  a wonderful  and  bcaudful  personality.  These  arc  die  condi- 
dons  under  which  we  live.  I regret  them. 

These  unfortunate  people,  that  have  not  the  high  understanding 
that  you  have,  might  put  it  down  to  something  wrong?— 
Undoubtedly;  to  any  point  they  chose.  I am  not  concerned  with 
the  ignorance  of  others. 

In  another  passage  Dorian  Gray  receives  a book.  Was  the 
book  to  which  you  refer  a moral  book?- Not  well  written,  but  it 
gave  me  an  idea. 

Was  not  the  book  you  have  in  mind  of  a certain  tendency? — I 
decline  to  be  aoss-examined  upon  the  work  of  another  ardst. 
It  is  an  impertinence  and  a vulgarity. 

[Witness  admitted  that  the  book  in  question  was  a French  work, 
A Rebours,  by  J.  K.  Huysmans.  Mr.  Carson  persisted  in  his  desire 
to  elicit  the  witness’s  view  as  to  the  morality  of  this  book,  with  the 


7 «xhe  Portrait  of  Mr.  W.  H./'  which  appeared  in  Blac{tifood*i  Edinburgh 
Magmne,  Vol.  acivi,  No.  885  (July,  1889).  A revised  and  enlarged  version  of  this 
essay  was  later  announced  by  Wilde'a  publishers,  but  the  manuscript  which  bad  been 
returned  to  Wilde  by  the  publishers  on  the  day  of  his  arrest,  mysteriously  dls- 
appeared,  no  doubt  stolen  during  the  sale  of  Wilde's  ejects  on  his  bankruptcy. 
It  turned  up  many  years  afterwards  in  New  York,  where  the  complete  text  was 
published  b a limited  edition  in  ipai  by  Mr.  Mitchell  Kennerley,  the  collector  who 
had  acquired  the  manuscript, 

130 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscu  WtM« 

result  that  Sir  Edward  Clarke  appealed  to  Mr.  Justice  Collins, 
who  ruled  against  any  further  reference  to  it." 

Mr.  Carson  theii  read  a further  extract  from  The  Picture  of 
Dorian  Gray,  quoting  the  following  conversation  between  the 
painter  and  Dorian  Gray.] 

"...  I think  it  right  that  you  should  know  that  the  most 
dreadful  things  are  being  said  about  you  in  London — things 
that  I could  hardly  repeat  to  you." 

“I  don't  wish  to  know  anything  about  them.  I love 
scandals  about  other  people,  but  scandals  about  myself  don’t 
interest  me.  They  have  not  got  the  charm  of  novelty.” 

“They  must  interest  you,  Dorian.  Every  gentleman  is 
interested  in  his  good  name.  You  don’t  want  people  to  talk 
of  you  as  something  vile  and  degraded.  Of  course  you  have 
your  position,  and  your  wealth,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing. 
But  position  and  wealth  are  not  everything.  Mind  you,  I 
don’t  believe  these  rumours  at  all.  At  least,  I can’t  believe 
them  when  I sec  you.  Sin  is  a thing  that  writes  itself  across 
a man’s  face.  It  cannot  be  concealed.  People  talk  of  secret 
vices.  There  are  no  such  things  as  secret  vices.  If  a wretched 
man  has  a vice,  it  shows  itself  in  tlie  lines  of  his  mouth,  the 
droop  of  his  eyelids,  the  moulding  of  his  hands  even.  Some- 
body—I won’t  mention  his  name,  but  you  know  him— came 
m me  last  year  to  have  his  portrait  done.  I had  never  seen 
him  before,  and  had  never  heard  anything  about  him  at  the 
time,  though  I have  heard  a gtwd  deal  since.  He  offered  an 
extravagant  price.  I refused  him.  There  was  something  in 
the  shape  of  liis  fingers  that  I hated.  I know  now  that  I was 
quite  right  in  what  I fancied  about  him.  His  life  is  dreadful. 
But  you,  Dorian,  with  your  pure,  bright,  innocent  face,  and 
your  mar'cllous  untroubled  youth — can’t  believe  anything 
against  you.  And  yet  I see  you  very  seldom,  and  you  never 
come  down  to  the  studio  now,  and  when  I am  away  from 
you,  and  I hear  all  these  hideous  things  that  people  ate 
whispering  about  you,  I don’t  know  what  to  say.  Why  is  it, 

*A  Rtboins  was  first  published  la  1884.  “It  was  a novel  without  a plot," 
wrote  Wilde  in  the  passage  alluded  to  by  Carson  in  Tit  Tictme  of  Dorm  Gray, 
"and  with  only  one  character,  being,  indeed,  simply  a psychological  study  o£  a 
cettain  young  fttisian,  who  spent  nis  life  trying  to  realize  in  the  nineteenth 
century  all  the  passions  and  modes  o£  thought  that  belong  to  every  century  except 
Ids  own,  and  to  sum  up,  as  it  were,  in  mmselE  the  various  modes  through  which 
the  world.spirit  had  ever  passed,  loving  £ot  their  mere  artificiaiity  those 
renunciations  that  men  have  untyisely  called  virtue,  as  much  as  those  natural 
rebellions  that  wise  men  still  call  sin.' 

13I 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Obuit  Wilde 

Dorian,  tlut  a man  like  the  Duke  o£  Berwick  leaves  the  room 
o£  a club  when  you  enter  it?  Why  is  it  that  so  many  gentle- 
men in  London  will  neither  go  to  your  house  nor  invite  you  to 
theirs?  You  used  to  be  a friend  o£  Lord  Cawdor.  I met  him 
at  dinner  last  week.  Your  name  happened  to  come  up  in 
conversation,  in  connexion  with  the  miniatures  you  have 
lent  to  the  exhibition  at  the  Dudley.  Cawdor  curled  his  lip, 
and  said  that  you  might  have  the  most  artistic  tastes,  but  that 
you  were  a man  whom  no  pure-minded  girl  should  be  allowed 
to  know,  and  whom  no  chaste  woman  should  sit  in  the  same 
room  with.  1 reminded  him  that  I was  a friend  of  yours,  and 
asked  him  what  he  meant.  He  told  me.  He  told  me  right 
out  before  everybody.  It  was  horrible  1 Why  is  your  friend- 
ship so  fateful  to  young  men?  There  was  that  wretched  boy 
in  the  Guards  who  committed  suicide.  You  were  his  great 
friend.  There  was  Sir  Henry  Ashton,  who  had  to  leave  Eng- 
land with  a tarnished  name.  You  and  he  were  iiusepiirable. 
What  about  Adrian  Singleton,  and  his  dreadful  end?  What 
about  Lord  Kent’s  only  son,  and  his  career?  1 met  his  father 
yesterday  in  St.  James  Street.  He  seemed  broken  with  shame 
and  sorrow.  What  about  the  young  Duke  of  Perth?  What 
sort  of  life  has  he  got  now?  What  gentlcmiui  would  associate 
with  him?  Dorian,  Dorian,  your  veputation  is  infamous. . . ." 

Cross-examination  continued—DotB  not  this  passage  suggest  a 
charge  of  unnatural  vice? — ft  describes  Dorian  Gray  as  a man  of 
very  corrupt  influence,  though  there  is  no  statement  as  to  lha 
nature  of  the  influence.  But  as  a matter  of  fact  I do  not  think 
that  one  person  influences  another,  nor  do  I think  there  is  any 
bad  influence  in  the  world. 

A man  never  corrupts  a youth? — I think  not. 

Nothing  could  cormpt  him? — ^If  you  are  talking  of  separate 
ages. 

No,  sir,  I am  talking  common  sense?— I do  not  think  one 
person  influences  another. 

You  don’t  think  that  flattering  a young  man,  making  love  to 
him,  in  fact,  would  be  likely  to  corrupt  him?— No. 

Where  was  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  staying  when  you  wrote  that 
letter  to  him?— At  the  Savoy;  and  I was  at  Babbacombe,  near 
Torquay. 

It  was  a letter  in  answer  to  something  he  had  sent  you? — 
Yes,  a poem. 

Why  should  a man  of  your  age  address  a boy  nearly  twenty 
132 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 


Oscar  Wltdc 

years  younger  as  “My  own  boy”? — 1 was  fond  of  him.  I have 
always  been  fond  of  him. 

Do  you  adore  him?— No,  but  1 have  always  liked  him.  I think 
it  is  a beautiful  letter.  It  is  a poem.  I was  not  writing  an  ordinary 
letter.  You  might  as  well  cross-examine  me  as  to  whether  King 
Lear  or  a sonnet  of  Shakespeare  was  proper. 

Apart  from  art,  Mr.  Wilde? — cannot  answer  apart  from  art. 

Suppose  a man  who  was  not  an  artist  had  written  this  letter, 
would  you  say  it  was  a proper  letter?— A man  who  was  not  an 
artist  could  not  have  written  that  letter. 

Why?— Because  nobody  but  an  artist  could  write  it.  He 
certainly  could  not  write  the  language  unless  he  were  a man  of 
letters. 

1 can  suggest,  for  the  sake  of  your  reputation,  that  there  is 
nothing  very  wonderful  in  this  "red  rose-leaf  lips  of  yours”?— A 
great  deal  depends  on  the  way  it  is  read. 

"Your  slim  gilt  soul  walks  between  passion  and  poetry,”  Is  that 
a beautiful  phrase?— Not  as  you  read  it,  Mr,  Carson.  You  read  it 
very  badly. 

I do  not  profess  to  be  an  artist;  .and  when  I hear  you  givd 
evidence,  I am  glad  I am  not 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— I don’t  think  my  friend  should  talk  likd 
that.  (To  witness)  Pray,  do  not  criticize  my  friend’s  reading 
again. 

Cross-examination  continued — Is  that  not  an  exceptional  letter? — 
It  is  unique,  I should  say. 

Was  mat  the  ordinary  way  in  which  you  carried  on  your  corre- 
spondence?— ^No;  but  I have  often  written  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas, 
though  I never  wrote  to  another  young  man  in  the  same  way. 

Have  you  often  written  letters  in  the  same  style  as  this? — I don’t 
repeat  myself  in  style. 

Here  is  another  letter  which  I believe  you  also  wrote  to  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas.  Will  you  read  it? — No;  I decline.  I don’t  see 
why  I should. 

Then  I will. 


Savoy  Hotel, 

Victoria  Embankment,  London. 

Dearest  of  all  Boys, 

Your  letter  was  delightful,  red  and  yellow  wine  to  me; 
but  I am  sad  and  out  of  sorts.  Bosic,  you  must  not  make 
scenes  with  me.  They  kill  me,  they  wreck  the  loveliness  of 
133 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oicu  Wilde 

life.  I cannot  see  you,  so  Greek  and  gracious,  distorted  with 
passion.  I cannot  listen  to  your  curved  lips  saying  hideous 
things  to  me.  I would  sooner — than  have  you  bitter,  unjust, 
hating.  ...  I must  see  you  soon.  You  are  the  divine  thing  1 
want,  the  thing  of  grace  and  beauty;  but  I don’t  know  how  to 
do  it.  Shall  1 come  to  Salisbury?  My  bill  here  is  ,£49  for 
a week,  I have  also  got  a new  sitting-room.  . . . Why  are 
you  not  here,  my  dear,  my  wonderful  boy?  I fear  I must 
leave— -no  money,  no  credit,  and  a heart  of  lead. 

Your  own  Oscar. 

Cross-examination  continued — Is  that  an  ordinary  letter? — Every- 
thing I write  is  extraordinary.  I do  not  pose  as  being  ordinary, 
great  heavens  1 Ask  me  any  question  you  like  about  it. 

Is  it  the  kind  of  letter  a man  writes  to  anotlier?— It  was  a tender 
expression  of  my  great  admiration  for  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  It 
was  not,  like  the  other,  a prose  poem. 

Were  you  living  at  the  Savoy?— Yes,  I was  there  for  about  a 
month,  and  had  also  ray  house  in  Tite  Street.  Lord  Alfred  liad 
been  staying  with  me  at  the  Savoy  immediately  before  I wrote  that 
letter. 

How  long  had  you  known  Wood?— I think  I met  him  at  the 
end  of  January,  1893.  I met  him  at  the  CaK  Royal  where  he  was 
sent  to  find  me  by  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  who  telegraphed  from 
Salisbury.  Lord  Alfred  asked  me  to  do  what  I could  for  Wood, 
who  was  seeking  a post  as  a clerk.  I do  not  know  where  he  was 
living  at  that  time.  Taylor  was  living  at  13  Little  College  Street, 
and  I have  been  there  to  tea  parties  on  many  occasions.  They  were 
all  men  at  the  parties,  but  not  all  young  men.  I took  Wood  to 
supper  at  the  Florence  Restaurant  in  Rupert  Street,  because  Lord 
Alfred  had  asked  me  to  be  kind  to  him. 

Who  was  Wood? — So  far  as  I could  make  out  he  had  no 
occupation,  but  was  looking  for  a situation.  He  told  me  he  had 
had  a clerkship.  At  that  time  he  was  about  twenty-three  years  of 
age. 

Then,  do  I understand  that  the  first  time  you  met  Wood  you 
took  him  to  supper?— Yes,  because  I had  been  asked  to  be  kind 
to  him.  Otherwise  it  was  rather  a bore. 

Was  Taylor  or  anybody  else  there? — No. 

[In  reply  to  further  questions  from  counsel,  the  wimess 
absolutely  denied  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  improper  conduct 
with  Wood.] 


134 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Wilds 

Had  you  a private  room  at  the  Florence?— Yes.  1 went  there 
so  that  1 could  get  a cheque  cashed  because  the  next  day  was 
Sunday, 

How  much  did  you  give  Wood  then?— ;£2. 

Why? — Because  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  asked  me  to  be  kind  m 
him.  I don’t  care  about  different  social  positions. 

I suggest  that  you  first  had  immoral  relations  with  him  and 
then  gave  him  money?— It  is  perfectly  untrue. 

Did  you  consider  that  he  had  come  to  levy  blackmail? — did; 
and  I determined  to  face  it. 

And  the  way  you  faced  it  was  by  giving  him  to  go  to 
America?— That  is  an  inaccurate  description.  I saw  that  the  letters 
were  of  no  value,  and  I gave  him  the  money  after  he  had  told  me 
the  pitiful  tale  about  himself,  foolishly  perhaps,  but  out  of  pure 
kindness. 

1 suggest  that  you  gave  him  ,£30.  Did  you  give  him  ,^5  more 
next  day  ?— Yes;  he  told  me  that  after  paying  his  passage  to  America 
he  would  be  left  almost  penniless.  1 gave  him  £5. 

Had  you  a farewell  lunch  at  the  Florence?— Yes. 

It  was  after  lunch  that  you  gave  him  /s?— Yes. 

After  Wood  went  to  America  did  he  ask  you  for  money?— No. 

Did  he  call  Taylor  by  his  Christian  name?— Yes, 

Did  Wood  call  you  "Oscar”? — Yes, 

What  did  you  call  Wood? — ^His  name  is  Alfred. 

Didn’t  you  call  him  “Alf”?— No,  I never  use  abbreviations. 

Did  you  not  think  it  a curious  thing  that  a man  with  whom 
you  were  on  such  intimate  terms  should  try  to  bladcmail  you? — 
I thought  it  infamous,  but  Wood  convinced  me  that  such  had  not 
been  his  intention,  though  it  was  the  intention  of  other  people. 
Wood  assured  me  that  he  had  recovered  all  the  letters. 

And  then  Allen  came  with  a letter,  possession  of  which  you 
knew  he  had  secured  improperly? — ^Yes. 

What  was  Allen?— I am  told  he  was  a blackmailer. 

Was  he  a blackmailer?— I never  heard  of  him  except  as  a 
blackmailer." 

Then  you  began  to  explain  to  the  blackmailer  what  a loss  your 
beautiful  manuscript  was? — ^I  described  it  as  a beautiful  work  of 
art. 


• At  tUs  time  Allen  and  Clibuin  were  in  hiding  at  Broadscairs,  where  they  had 
been  run  tu  earth  by  Queensbercy's  detective  annts  who  secured  statements  from 
them.  Cliburn  was  subsequently  convicted  of  extorting  money  by  threats  and 
sentenced  to  seven  years’  penal  servitude.  Allen  was  also  sent  to  prison  for 
receiving  stolen  goods, 


135 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Wilde 

May  I ask  why  you  gave  this  man,  who  you  knew  was  a 
notorious  blackmailer,  ten  shillings? — I gave  it  out  of  contempt. 

Then  the  way  you  show  your  contempt  is  by  paying  ten 
shillings?— Yes,  very  often. 

1 suppose  he  was  pleased  with  your  contempt? — Yes,  he  was 
apparently  pleased  at  my  kindness. 

A few  minutes  afterwards  did  Cliburn  come  to  the  door? — ^Ycs. 
Allen  had  mentioned  my  kindness  to  him. 

Did  you  know  Cliburn  before? — saw  him  at  the  stage  door  of 
the  Haymarket  on  aist  April,  when  he  said  that  he  wanted  to 
speak  to  me  about  a letter  which  Allen  had.  I told  him  that  I was 
rehearsing  and  could  not  be  bothered,  and  that  really  1 did  not  care 
twopence  about  it.  He  made  no  attempt  to  blackmail  me. 

But  you  were  immediately  kind  to  him? — Yes,  I gave  him  half- 
a-sovereign. 

And  you  began  discussing  with  him  what  a beautiful  manu- 
script and  work  of  art  the  letter  was?— Yes. 

Did  you  tell  this  blackmailer  that  the  letter  was  to  be  published 
as  a sonnet?— Yes,  I told  Allen  but  not  Cliburn.  I told  him  it  was  to 
be  published  in  an  Oxford  m.igazine,  The  Spirit  Lamp.  That  was 
to  show  my  indifference. 

But  you  had  got  back  the  letter?— Yes. 

Did  you  say  to  him : *‘I  am  afraid  you  arc  leading  a wonder- 
fully wicked  life”?— Yes;  I meant  generally  in  being  mixed  up  in 
this  attempt  to  blackmail  me. 

Did  you  ever  have  any  of  your  beautiful  letters,  except  the  one 
found  out,  turned  into  a sonnet?— I require  to  read  a great  deal  of 
modern  poetry  before  I can  say. 

Come,  sir,  answer  the  quesdon.  Can  you  tell  me  if  one,  except 
this,  was  ever  turned  into  a sonnet?— Well,  at  the  present  moment 
I cannot  recollect  another. 

Did  you  ever  ask  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  to  preserve  that  letter? — 
No. 

And  therefore  you  never  thought  of  turning  it  into  a sonnet 
till  it  was  discovered? — I never  did  turn  it  into  a sonnet.  When 
the  copy  was  sent  to  Mr.  Beerbohm  Tree  and  I saw  it,  I at  once 
thought  it  would  turn  into  a sonnet. 

Were  you  staying  at  the  Albemarle  Hotel  about  26th  of 
February,  1892?— Yes. 

At  that  time  were  Messrs.  Elkin  Mathews  & John  Lane,  of 
Vigo  Street,  your  publishers?— Yes. 

Did  you  become  fond  of  their  of&cc  boy? — I really  do  not 
think  that  that  is  the  proper  form  for  the  quesdon  to  be  addressed 

136 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 


Oscar  Wilde 

to  me  in.  1 deny  that  thiit  was  the  position  held  by  Mr.  Edward 
Shelley,  to  whom  you  arc  reterring.  I object  to  your  description. 

What  age  was  Mr.  Shelley? — should  think  about  twenty.  I 
first  met  him  in  October  when  arranging  for  the  publication  of  my 
books.  I asked  him  to  dine  with  me  at  the  Albemarle  Hotel. 

Was  that  for  the  purpose  of  having  an  intellectual  treat?— Well, 
for  him,  yes.  We  dined  in  my  own  sitting-room,  and  there  was 
one  other  gentleman  there.  (Witness  wrote  down  the  name  which 
was  handed  to  counsel.)' 

On  that  occasion  did  you  have  a room  leading  into  a bedroom? 
-Yes. 

Did  you  give  him  whiskies  and  sodas? — I suppose  that  he  had 
whatever  he  wanted.  I do  not  remember.  He  did  not  stay  all 
night,  nor  did  I embrace  him. 

[Witness  absolutely  denied  tliat  any  improper  conduct 
occurred. | 

Cross-examination  continued— I invited  him  to  my  house  and 
he  dined  with  myself  and  my  wife.  He  expressed  great  admiration 
for  ray  works.  1 took  him  to  die  Exhibition  at  Earl’s  Court,  to  the 
Lyric  Club,  the  Caf^  Royal,  and  Kettner’s,  and  also  to  the  first 
night’s  performance  at  the  Independent  Theatre,  and  it  may  be 
he  was  at  the  Hogarth  Club,  of  which  I am  not  a member. 

Did  you  ever  give  him  money?— Yes;  on  three  occasions— the 
first  time  £4,  the  second  time  hi  railwtiy  fare  to  Cromer,  where 
I invited  him  to  meet  my  wife  and  family,  and  the  third  time  ^£5. 

He  did  not  go  to  Cromer,  but  kept  the  £3? — ^Hc  did  not  go,  and 
I wrote  to  him  saying  he  was  not  to  send  back  the  money. 

Did  you  think  this  young  man  of  eighteen  was  a proper  or 
natural  companion  for  you? — Certainly. 

Did  you  give  him  a signed  copy  of  die  first  edition  of  Dorian 
Gwy?— Yes. 

Is  this  your  wridng?  (Counsel  handed  up  a copy  of  Tkt 
Sinner’s  Comedy,  which  was  inscribed  “From  the  Author  to  dear 
Edward  Shelley’’)— That  was  purely  a piece  of  nonsense.  I was 
not  the  author  of  die  book.’ 

Did  you  become  intimate  with  a young  lad  named  Alphonse 
Conway  at  Worthing?— Yes. 

He  sold  newspapers  at  the  kiosk  on  the  pier? — No,  I never 

1 The  reference  was  to  a certain  Maurice  Schwabe,  who  was  a nephew  by 
marriage  of  Sir  Frank  Lockwood,  the  Solicttor-General. 

* The  Sinner’s  Comedy,  by  John  Oliver  Hobbes  (Mrs,  Craigie),  published  in 
rtpa. 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  WHdc 

heard  that  up  to  that  time  hk  only  occupation  was  selling  ncws^ 
papers.  It  is  the  first  I have  heard  of  his  connerdon  with  literature. 

What  was  hef— He  led  a happy,  idle  life. 

He  was  a loafer,  in  fact?  How  old  was  he? — He  seemed  to 
me  to  be  just  enjoying  life.  He  was  a youth  of  about  eighteen. 

How  did  you  make  his  acquaintance? — ^When  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  and  I were  at  Worthing,  we  were  accustomed  to  go  out 
in  a boat.  One  day  when  the  fi^ermcn  were  launching  a boat  on 
the  high  beach,  Conway,  with  another  lad,  assisted  in  getting  the 
craft  down  to  the  water.  I said  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  “Shall 
we  ask  them  to  come  out  for  a sail?”  He  assented,  and  we  took 
them.  After  that  Alphonse  and  I became  great  friends,  and  it  is 
true  that  I asked  him  to  lunch  with  me.  He  also  dined  at  my 
house,  and  lunched  with  me  at  the  Marine  Hotel. 

Was  his  conversation  literary? — On  the  contrary,  quite  simple 
and  easily  understood.  He  had  been  to  school  where  naturally 
he  had  not  learned  much. 

He  was  a simple  country  lad?— He  was  a nice,  pleasant  creature. 
His  mother  kept  a lodging-house,  and  bis  dedre  was  to  go  to  sea. 
It  is  not  true  that  I met  him  by  appointment  one  evening  and  took 
him  on  the  road  to  Lancing,  kissing  him  and  indulging  in  fami- 
liarities on  the  way. 

Did  you  give  him  anything?— Oh,  yes,  but  no  money. 

Did  you  give  him  sums  amounting  to  Never.  I gave 
him  a cigarette  case  in  which  I placed  a paper  inscribed  “Alphonse 
from  his  friend  Oscar  Wilde."  I called  him  “Alphonse,"  but  he 
did  not  call  me  “Oscar."  I also  gave  him  my  photograph,  on  which 
I wrote  “Oscar  Wilde  to  Alphonse,”  I also  gave  him  a book 
called  The  Wreck,  of  the  Grosvenor. 

(These  presents,  and  also  a silver-mounted  crook-handled  grape- 
vine stick,  were  produced.) 

Were  you  fond  of  this  boy? — Naturally.  He  had  been  my 
companion  for  six  weeks. 

Did  you  take  the  lad  to  Brighton?— Yes. 

And  provided  him  with  a suit  of  blue  serge?— Yes. 

And  a straw  hat  with  a band  of  red  and  blue?— That,  I think, 
was  his  unfortunate  selection. 

But  you  paid  for  it? — Yes. 

You  dressed  this  newsboy  up  to  take  him  to  Brighton?— No. 
I did  not  want  him  to  be  ashamed  of  his  shabby  clothes.  He  told 
me  his  father  had  been  an  electrical  engineer,  and  had  died  young. 

In  order  that  he  might  look  more  like  an  equal?— Oh,  nol  He 
could  not  look  like  that.  No,  I promised  him  that  before  I left 
Worthing  I would  take  him  somewhere,  to  some  place  to  which  he 
138 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Wilde 

wished  to  go,  as  a reward  for  his  being  a pleasant  companion 
to  myself  and  my  children.  He  chose  Portsmouth,  as  he  was 
anxious  to  go  to  sea,  but  I told  him  that  was  too  far.  So  we  went 
to  Brighton.  We  dined  at  a restaurant  and  stayed  Ae  night  at  ^e 
Albion  Hotel,  where  I took  a sitting-room  and  two  bedrooms.  I 
am  not  sure  that  the  bedrooms  communicated  by  a green  baize  door. 
We  returned  next  day.  I have  never  taken  any  other  boy  to  the 
Albion.  I am  quite  eertain  of  that. 


139 


Oscar  Wilde. 


First  Trial.  Second  Day— Thursday,  4th  April,  1895 
Evidence  for  the  Prosecution  (concluded) 

Oscar  Wilde,  cross-examination  coniinued~You  told  me  yester- 
day that  you  were  intimate  with  Taylor? — I do  not  call  him  an 
intimate  friend.  He  was  a friend  of  mine.  It  was  he  who  arranged 
the  meeting  of  myself  with  Wood  about  the  letters  at  his  residence, 
13  Litde  College  Street.  I have  known  Taylor  since  the  early  part 
of  October,  1892.  He  used  to  come  to  my  house,  to  my  chambers, 
and  to  the  Savoy.  1 have  been  several  times  to  his  house,  some 
seven  or  eight  times,  perhaps. 

You  used  to  go  to  tea  parties  there — afternoon  tea  parties? — ^Yes. 

How  many  rooms  did  he  occupy?— He  had  die  upper  part  of 
the  house— two  stories.  He  had  a bedroom,  a sitting-room,  a bath- 
room and  a kitchen.  I think  he  did  not  keep  a servant. 

Did  he  use  to  do  his  own  cooking? — I don’t  know.  I don't 
think  he  did  anydiing  wrong. 

I have  not  suggested  that  he  did?— Well,  cooking  is  an  art. 

Another  art?  Did  he  always  open  the  door  to  you?— No; 
sometimes  he  did;  sometimes  his  friends  did. 

Did  his  rooms  strike  you  as  being  peculiar?— No,  except  that  he 
displayed  more  taste  than  usual. 

There  was  rather  elaborate  furniture  in  the  room,  was  there 
not?— The  rooms  were  furnished  in  good  taste. 

Is  it  true  that  he  never  admitted  daylight  into  them?— Really, 
I don’t  know  what  you  mean. 

Well,  was  there  always  candle  or  gas  light  there? — No, 

Did  you  ever  see  the  rooms  lighted  otherwise  than  by  gas  or 
candles  whether  by  day  or  night? — ^Yes,  certainly. 

Did  you  ever  see  the  curtains  drawn  back  in  the  sitting-room? — 
When  I went  to  see  Taylor,  it  was  generally  in  the  wmter  about 
five  o’clock— tea-time— but  1 am  under  the  impression  of  having 
seen  him  earlier  in  the  day  when  it  was  daylight. 

Are  you  prepared  to  say  that  you  ever  saw  the  curtains  other- 
wise than  drawn  aaoss?— Yes,  I think  so. 

It  would  not  be  true,  then,  to  say  that  he  always  had  a double 
lot  of  curtains  drawn  across  the  windows,  and  the  room,  day  or 
night,  artificially  lighted? — I don’t  think  so. 

Can  you  declare  spedfically  that  any  daylight  was  ever  admitted 
into  the  room? — Well,  I can’t  say  as  to  that. 

Who  was  there  when  you  went  in  the  daylight?— I think  Mr. 
Taylor  only. 

Can  you  recall  any  specific  time  at  which  you  saw  daylight  enter 
140 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Wilde 

that  room?— Yes;  it  was  a Monday  in  March.  Nobody  else  was 
there.  In  the  winter  the  curtains  would  naturally  be  drawn. 

Were  the  rooms  strongly  perfumed?— Yes,  I have  known  him  to 
burn  perfumes.  I would  not  say  the  rooms  were  always  perfumed. 
I am  in  the  hahit  of  burning  perfumes  in  my  own  rooms. 

Did  you  ever  meet  Wood  there? — I saw  Wood  there  only  on  one 
occasion  when  I met  him  at  tea. 

Did  you  ever  meet  a man  named  Sidney  Mavor  there? — Yes. 

How  old  was  he? — ^About  twenty-five  or  twenty-six. 

Is  he  your  friend  still?— Yes. 

When  did  you  see  him  last? — I have  not  seen  him  for  about  a 
year,  when  he  dined  with  me. 

Where  is  he  now?— I have  not  the  slightest  idea  where  he  is. 
Last  Sunday  I asked  Mr.  Taylor  to  go  down  to  see  Mr.  Mavor’s 
motlier  and  tell  him  I wanted  to  see  Itim.  I was  told  that  Mavor 
was  away.  I was  not  told  where  he  had  gone. 

Were  50U  told  that  Mavor  had  disappeared  within  the  last  week? 
-No. 

Have  you  found  him  since?- I don’t  Icnow  what  you  mean  by 
"found  liim.”  Mr.  Mavor  has  not  called  upon  me,  though  [ 
wish  to  see  him. 

Did  you  know  that  Taylor  had  a lady’s  costume — a lady’s 
fancy  dress— in  his  rooms?— No. 

Did  you  ever  see  him  with  one  on? — No.  I was  never  told  that 
he  had  such  dresses.  He  is  a man  of  great  taste  and  intelligence, 
and  I know  he  was  brought  up  at  a good  English  school. 

Is  he  a literary  man?— I have  never  seen  any  created  work 
of  his. 

Did  you  discuss  literature  with  him? — He  used  to  listen.  He 
was  a very  artistic,  pleasant  fellow. 

Was  he  an  artist?— Not  in  the  sense  of  creating  anything.  He 
was  extremely  intellectual  and  clever,  and  1 liked  him  very  much. 

Are  you  in  the  habit  of  constantly  communicating  with  him  by 
telegraph?— No.  I have  telegraphed  to  him.  He  was  a friend 
of  mine. 

Did  you  get  him  to  arrange  dinners  at  which  you  could  meet 
young  men?— No. 

But  you  have  dined  with  young  men? — Often.  Ten  or  a dozen 
times,  perhaps,  at  Ketmer’s,  the  Solferino,  and  the  Florence. 

Always  in  a private  room?— Generally,  not  always;  but  I prefer 
a private  room. 

Did  you  send  him  this  telegram— “Alfred  Taylor,  13  Little 
College  Street,  S.W.  Could  you  call  at  six  o’clock,  Savoy?— 
Oscar’’? — ^Ycs. 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Otcir  WlMe 

What  did  you  want  him  for? — I wanted  him  because  I had 
received  an  anonymous  letter  saying  that  Alfred  Wood  was  going 
to  blackmail  me  in  respect  of  certain  letters  stolen  from  Lord  Alfred 
Oougks. 

Again,  you  wired  from  Goring  t “Cannot  manage  the  dinner 
to-morrow.  Am  so  sorry.  Osrar”?— Yes, 

Did  you  send  this  telegram  to  Taylor;  “Obliged  to  see  Tree 
at  five  o’clock,  so  don’t  come  to  Savoy.  Let  me  know  at  once 
about  Fred.  Oscar”? — I do  not  recollect  it. 

Who  was  Fred?— A young  man  to  whom  I was  introduced  by 
the  gentleman  whose  name  was  written  down  yesterday.  His 
other  name  was  Atkins. 

What  was  it  you  wanted  to  know? — I cannot  remember. 

Were  you  very  familiar  with  him? — liked  him.  I never  had 
any  trouble  about  him. 

Did  Atkins  call  you  “Oscar”?— Yes.  I called  him  "Fred,” 
because  I always  call  by  their  Christian  names  people  whom  I like. 
People  I dislike  I call  something  else. 

Now,  did  you  know  that  Taylor  was  being  watched  by  the 
police?— No,  I never  heard  that. 

Did  you  know  that  Taylor  and  Parker  were  arrested  in  a raid 
upon  a house  in  Fitzroy  Square  last  year?— Yes. 

Did  you  know  Parker?— Yes.  I don’t  think  I ever  saw  him  at 
Mr.  Taylor's  rooms  in  Little  College  Street,  but  I have  seen  him  at 
Chapel  Street,  to  which  he  removed. 

Now,  did  you  not  know  that  Taylor  was  notorious  for  intro- 
ducing young  men  to  older  men? — never  heard  that  in  my  life. 
He  has  introduced  young  men  to  me. 

How  many  has  he  introduced  to  you?— Do  you  mean  of  those 
mentioned  in  this  case? 

No;  young  men  with  whom  you  afterwards  became  intimate? 
—About  five. 

They  were  young  men  whom  you  would  call  by  their  Christian 
names?— Yes. 

Were  these  young  men  all  about  twenty?— Yes;  twenty  or 
twenty-two.  I like  the  society  of  young  men. 

What  was  their  occupation?- I do  not  know  if  these  particular 
young  men  had  occupations. 

Have  you  given  money  to  them?— Yes.  I think  to  all  five- 
money  or  presents. 

Did  they  give  you  anything?— Me?  Me?  No  I 

Among  these  fi,ve  did  Taylor  introduce  you  to  Charles  Parker? 
—Yes. 


142 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Wilde 

Did  you  become  friendly  with  himf— Yes,  he  was  one  with 
whom  I became  friendly, 

Did  you  know  that  Parker  was  a gentleman’s  servant  out  of 
employment? — No. 

But  if  he  were,  you  would  still  have  become  friendly  with  him? 
—Yes.  I would  become  friendly  with  any  human  being  I liked. 

How  old  was  he? — ^Really,  I do  not  keep  a census. 

Never  mind  about  a census.  Tell  me  how  old  he  was?— I should 
say  he  was  about  twenty.  He  was  young,  and  that  was  one  of  his 
attractions. 

Was  he  a literary  character? — Oh,  no. 

Was  he  intellectual?  Was  he  an  educated  man? — Culture  was 
not  his  strong  point.  He  was  not  an  ardst.  Education  depends 
on  what  one’s  standard  is. 

Where  is  he  now? — I haven’t  the  slightest  idea.  I have  lost 
sight  of  him. 

How  much  money  did  you  give  Parker? — During  the  time  I 
have  known  him  I should  think  £4  or  £$. 

Why?  For  what  reason? — Because  he  was  poor,  and  I liked 
him.  What  better  reason  could  I have? 

Did  you  ask  what  his  previous  occupation  was?— I never 
inquire  about  people’s  pasts. 

Nor  their  future?— Oh,  that  is  problematical. 

Sir  Edwakd  CLAaKU- There  is  no  use  in  arguing  about  that. 

Cross-examination  Where  did  you  first  meet  him? 

— ^At  Kettner’s.  I was  introduced  by  Mr,  Taylor. 

Did  you  become  friendly  with  Parker’s  brother?— Yes.  They 
were  my  guests,  and  as  such  I became  friendly  with  them. 

On  the  very  first  occasion  that  you  saw  them?— Yes.  It  was 
Taylor’s  birthday,  and  I asked  him  to  dinner,  telling  him  to  bring 
any  of  his  friends. 

Did  you  know  that  one  Parker  was  a gentleman’s  valet,  and 
the  other  a groom? — I did  not  know  it,  but  if  I had  I should  not 
have  cared.  I didn’t  care  twopence  what  they  were.  I liked 
them.  I have  a passion  to  civilhm  the  conununity. 

What  enjoyment  was  it  to  you  to  entertain  grooms  and  coach- 
men?—The  pleasure  to  me  was  being  with  those  who  are  young, 
bright,  happy,  careless,  and  free.  I do  not  like  the  sensible  and 
I do  not  like  the  old. 

Taylor  accepted  your  invitation  by  bringing  a valet  and  a groom 
to  dine  with  you? — ^That  is  your  account,  not  mine. 

Were  they  persons  of  that  class? — ^1  am  surprised  at  your 
J43 


Osctir  Willie. 


Onciif  Willie 

description  o(  tlicm.  '['liey  dul  luit  smu  to  li.ivi  ilio  manners  o£ 
that  class.  Tliey  seemed  to  me  ple.iMiJl  aiul  nice.  'I'liey  .siuike  n£ 
a lather  .it  Datchet  as  a peison  of  wc.illh  -well,  nut  of  wealth 
but  ol  some  tortune.  O.h.iilie  Parker  uilJ  me  that  lie  was  desirous 
to  go  nil  the  stage. 

Did  you  call  him  "Charlie”?— Yes. 

What  did  you  have  tor  dinner?— Well,  really  I ioiger  the  menu. 

Was  it  a good  dinner? — Kettiier’s  is  not  so  gorgeous  as  some 
restaurants,  but  it  was  Kettner  at  his  best. 

With  the  best  of  Kettner 's  wines? — Yes,  ceitainly. 

All  Cor  the  valet  and  the  groom? — No;  Cor  my  friends;  for 
Mr.  Taylor,  whose  birthday  it  was. 

You  did  the  honours  to  the  valet  and  the  groom?  —I  enter- 
tained Taylor  and  his  two  guests. 

In  a private  room,  of  course?— Yes,  ceitainly. 

Did  you  give  them  an  iiilcllectiial  trrat?  - I'liey  seemed  deeply 
impressed. 

During  the  dinner  <lid  you  liccome  more  intim.iie  with  Charles 
than  the  other?— I liked  liitn  k-itcr. 

Did  Charles  Parker  call  you  “Oscar"?  Yes.  I like  in  he 
called  “Oscar”  or  “Mr.  Wilde.” 

You  Iwd  wine?  -OL  i'otir.so. 

Was  there  plenty  of  chamiugnc?  Well,  I tlid  not  press  wine 
upon  them. 

You  did  not  stint  them?  -Wh.at  gentleman  would  .stint  his 
guests? 

What  gentktnati  would  stint  the  vtdet  and  die  groom?  [ Witness 
and  his  counsel  protested  against  this  remark.  | 

Now,  after  dinner,  did  you  say,  referring  to  Charles  Parker, 
in  the  presence  of  Taylor  and  William  Parker,  the  brother,  “This 
is  the  boy  for  me”?— Certainly  not. 

And  did  you  ash  Charles,  “Will  you  come  with  me”?— No, 
After  dinner  I went  back  to  the  Savoy  Hotel,  but  I did  not  take 
Charles  Parker  with  me. 

Did  you  not  drive  him  to  the  Stivoy?— No,  he  did  not  come  to 
the  Savoy  at  all. 

Did  any  of  these  men  who  visited  you  at  the  Savoy  have 
whiskies  and  sodas  and  iced  champagne?— I can't  say  what  they 
had. 

Do  you  drink  champagne  yourself? — Yes;  iced  champagne  is 
a favourite  drink  of  mine — strongly  against  my  doctor's  orders. 

Never  mind  your  doctor's  orders,  sir? — I never  do.  About  a 
week  later  Charles  Parker  and  Taylor  dined  with  me  at  Kettner's 
again.  The  second  dinner  at  Kettner's  was  arranged  by  myself. 

144 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Wilde 

I first  gave  Pai'ker  money  in  December,  1893.  I did  not  ask  Taylor 
what  these  young  men  friends  of  liis  were.  SuflBcient  for  me  that 
they  were  friends  of  his.  Charlie  Parker  wished  to  go  on  the  stage. 
What  his  brother’s  ambition  was  1 never  knew.  Taylor  did  not 
tell  me  that  he  had  met  them  in  the  St.  James’s  Rooms.  1 had 
rooms  at  St.  James’s  Place.  Taybr  wrote  to  me  saying  Charlie 
Parker  was  in  town,  and  I replied  asking  him  to  come  to  tea.  We 
had  tea  on  the  terrace.  Parker  came  to  tea  five  or  six  times  there. 

What  was  he  doing  there? — Visiting  me.  I liked  his  society. 
Sometimes  he  came  with  Taylor,  sometimes  alone.  I gave  him  a 
Christmas  present— a silver  cigarette  case,  not  a gold  chain  ring. 
I also  gave  him  or  as  he  was  hard  up,  and  asked  me  if  I 
could  let  him  have  the  money.  1 don’t  think  he  was  ever  in  my  bed- 
room, unless  I was  putting  on  my  coat  to  go  out  or  something  of 
that  sort. 

Did  improprieties  take  place  there? — None  whatever. 

When  he  came  to  tea  what  was  he  doing  all  the  time? — What 
was  he  doing?  Why,  having  his  tea,  smoking  cigarettes,  an4  I 
hope,  enjoying  himself. 

What  was  there  in  common  between  this  young  man  and  your- 
self? What  attraction  had  he  for  you?~I  delight  in  the  society  of 
people  much  younger  than  myself.  I like  those  who  may  be  called 
idle  and  careless.  I recognize  no  social  distinctions  at  all  of  any 
kind;  and  to  me  youth,  the  mere  fact  of  youth,  is  so  wonderful 
that  I would  sooner  talk  to  a young  man  for  half-an-hour  than  be — 
well,  cross-examined  in  Court. 

Do  I understand  that  even  a young  boy  you  might  pick  up  in 
the  street  would  be  a pleasing  companion? — I would  talk  to  a 
street  arab,  with  pleasure. 

You  would  talk  to  a street  arab? — If  he  would  talk  to  me.  Yes, 
with  pleasure. 

And  take  him  into  your  rooms?— Be  it  so.  1 remember  that 
Charles  Parker  lived  at  7 Camera  Square  in  Chelsea.  I did  not  get 
him  dothes.  He  has  lunched  with  me  at  the  Caf6  Royal  and  at 
St.  James’s  Place.  I never  went  to  see  him  at  Camera  Square.  It 
is  a very  different  thing  his  coming  to  tea  with  me  and  my  going  to 
see  him.  It  would  not  have  been  interesting  for  him  to  see  me, 
while  it  was  interesting  for  me  to  see  him.  I remember  that  Charles 
Parker  was  present  at  a dinner  which  I gave  at  the  Solferino 
Restaurant.  There  was  no  one  else  present,  and  we  dined  in  the 
public  room. 

Did  you  write  him  any  beautiful  letters? — I don’t  think  I have 
ever  written  any  letters  to  him. 

Have  you  any  letters  of  his? — Only  one. 

K 145 


Oscar  Wilde. 


OtCiir  Wilde 

dcscriiJtion  of  them.  They  did  not  .seem  to  h.ive  ihi'  miutners  of 
that  class.  'L'hey  seemed  to  me  pleasant  ami  nice.  'I'hey  spoke  of 
a father  at  Datclict  as  a persim  of  wealth— well,  nut  of  wealth 
but  of  .some  fortune.  Chatlie  Parker  told  me  that  he  Wvi.s  desirous 
to  go  on  the  stage. 

Dill  you  call  him  "Charlie”? — Yes. 

What  did  you  have  for  dinner? — ^Well,  really  I forget  the  menu. 

Was  it  a good  dinner? — Kettner’s  is  not  so  gorgeous  as  some 
restaurants,  but  it  was  Kcttncr  at  his  best. 

With  the  best  of  Kettner’s  wines? — ^Yes,  certainly. 

All  for  the  valet  and  the  groom? — No;  for  my  friends;  for 
Mr.  Taylor,  whose  birthday  it  was. 

You  did  the  honours  to  the  valet  and  the  groom?— I enter- 
tained Taylor  and  his  two  guests. 

In  a private  room,  of  course? — ^Yes,  certainly. 

Did  you  give  diem  an  intellectual  treat?— They  seemed  deeply 
impressed. 

During  the  dinner  did  you  become  more  intimate  with  Charles 
than  the  other?— I liked  him  better. 

Did  Charles  Parker  call  yon  "Oscar"  f--Ye.s.  1 like  to  he 
called  “Oscar”  or  “Mr.  WEdc.” 

You  had  wine?— Of  couc.se. 

Wa.s  dierc  plenty  of  champagne?— Well,  I did  not  press  wine 
upon  them, 

You  did  not  stint  them?- What  gentleman  would  stint  his 
guests? 

What  gentleman  would  stint  the  valet  and  the  groom?  | Witness 
and  his  counsel  protested  against  this  remark.] 

Now,  after  dinner,  did  you  say,  referring  to  Charles  Parker, 
in  the  presence  of  Taylor  and  William  Parker,  die  brother,  "This 
is  the  boy  for  me”? — Certainty  not. 

And  did  you  ask  Charles,  “Will  you  come  with  me”? — No. 
After  dinner  I went  back  to  the  Savoy  Hotel,  but  I did  not  take 
Chtirles  Parker  with  me. 

Did  you  not  drive  him  to  the  Savoy?— No,  he  did  not  come  to 
the  Savoy  at  all. 

Did  any  of  these  men  who  visited  you  at  the  Savoy  have 
whiskies  and  sodas  and  iced  champagne  ?~I  can’t  say  what  they 
had. 

Do  you  drink  champagne  yourself? — Yes;  iced  champagne  is 
a favourite  drink  of  mine — strongly  against  my  doctor’s  orders. 

Never  mind  your  doctor’s  orders,  sir? — I never  do.  About  a 
week  later  Charles  Parker  and  Taylor  dined  with  me  at  Kettner’s 
again.  The  second  dinner  at  Kettner’s  was  arranged  by  myself. 

144 


Evidence  ior  Prosecution. 

Oscar  WUda 

I first  gave  Parker  money  in  December,  1893.  I did  not  ask  Taylor 
what  these  young  men  friends  of  his  were.  Sufficient  for  me  that 
they  were  friends  of  his.  Charlie  Parker  wished  to  go  on  the  stage. 
What  his  brother’s  ambition  was  I never  knew.  Taylor  did  not 
tell  me  that  he  had  met  them  in  the  St.  James’s  Rooms.  I had 
rooms  at  St.  James’s  Place.  Taylor  wrote  to  me  saying  Charlie 
Parker  was  in  town,  and  I replied  asking  him  to  come  to  tea.  We 
had  tea  on  the  terrace.  Parker  came  to  tea  five  or  six  times  there. 

What  was  he  doing  there? — Visiting  me.  I liked  his  society. 
Sometimes  he  came  with  Taylor,  sometimes  alone.  I gave  him  a 
Christmas  present— a silver  cigarette  case,  not  a gold  chain  ring. 
I also  gave  him  or  ,£4,  as  he  was  hard  up,  and  asked  me  if  I 
could  let  him  have  the  money.  I don’t  think  he  was  ever  in  my  bed- 
room, unless  I was  putting  on  my  coat  to  go  out  or  something  of 
that  sort. 

Did  improprieties  take  place  there? — None  whatever. 

When  he  came  to  tea  what  was  he  doing  all  the  time? — ^What 
was  he  doing?  Why,  having  his  tea,  smoking  cigarettes,  and,  I 
hope,  enjoying  himself, 

What  was  there  in  common  between  this  young  man  and  your- 
self? What  attraction  had  he  for  you?— I delight  in  the  society  of 
people  much  younger  than  myself.  I like  those  who  may  be  called 
idle  and  careless.  I recognize  no  social  distinctions  at  all  of  any 
kind;  and  to  me  youth,  the  mere  fact  of  youth,  is  so  wonderful 
that  1 would  sooner  talk  to  a young  man  for  half-an-hour  than  be— 
well,  crosaexamined  in  Court. 

Do  I understand  that  even  a young  boy  you  might  pick  up  in 
the  street  would  be  a pleasing  companion? — would  talk  to  a 
street  arab,  with  pleasure. 

You  would  talk  to  a street  arab? — If  he  would  talk  to  me.  Yes, 
with  pleasure. 

And  take  him  into  your  rooms?- Be  it  so.  I remember  that 
Charles  Parker  lived  at  7 Camera  Square  in  Chelsea.  I did  not  get 
him  clothes.  He  has  lunched  with  me  at  the  Caff  Royal  and  at 
St.  James’s  Place.  I never  went  to  see  him  at  Camera  Square.  It 
is  a very  dificrent  thing  his  coming  to  tea  with  me  and  my  going  to 
see  him.  It  would  not  have  been  interesting  for  him  to  see  me, 
while  it  was  interesting  for  me  to  see  him.  I remember  that  Charles 
Parker  was  present  at  a dinner  which  I gave  at  the  Solferino 
Restaurant.  There  was  no  one  else  present,  and  we  dined  in  the 
public  room. 

Did  you  write  him  any  brautiful  letters?— I don’t  think  I have 
ever  written  any  letters  to  him. 

Have  you  any  letters  of  his?— Only  one. 

K 145 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oacnr  Wilde 

[Counsel  rend  the  Eollowing  letter  from  Parker] : “Am  I to  have 
the  pleasure  of  dining  with  you  this  evening?  If  so,  kindly  reply 
by  messenger  or  wire  to  the  above  address.  I trust  you  can,  and 
we  can  spend  a pleasant  evening.”  The  letter  is  signed  “Yours 
faithfully." 

Sir  Edwaed  Clawie— I should  like  to  sec  the  handwriting. 

Mr.  Cabson — ^We  will  see  all  about  that.  Parker  himself  will 
be  here,  which  is  better. 

Cross-examination  continued— In  March  or  April  of  last  year 
did  you  go  one  night  to  visit  Parker  at  50  Park  Walk,  about  half- 
past twelve  at  night? — No. 

Is  Park  Walk  about  ten  minutes’  walk  from  Titc  Street?— I 
don’t  know,  I never  walk, 

I suppose  when  you  pay  visits  you  always  take  a cab? — ^Always. 

And  if  you  visited,  you  would  leave  the  cab  outside?— If  it 
were  a good  cab. 

When  did  you  ace  Charles  Parker  last?— I don’t  think  I have 
seen  him  since  February  of  last  year. 

Did  you  ever  hear  what  became  of  him? — ^I  heard  that  he 
had  gone  into  the  army— enlisted  as  a private. 

You  saw  in  the  papers  of  the  arrest  of  Taylor  and  Parker?— 
Yes;  I read  that  they  were  arrested,^ 

You  know  that  they  were  charged  with  felonious  practices?— I 
knew  nothing  of  the  charges. 

That  when  they  were  arrested  they  were  in  company  with 
several  men  in  women’s  clothing? — ^I  read  of  it  in  the  newspapers 
that  two  men,  in  women’s  clothes,  music-hall  artistes,  drove  up  to 
the  house  and  were  arrested  outside. 

Did  you  not  think  it  a somewhat  serious  thing  that  Mr.  Taylor, 
your  great  friend,  and  Charles  Parker,  another  great  friend,  should 
have  been  arrested  in  a police  raid? — ^I  was  very  much  distressed 
at  the  time,  and  wrote  to  him,  but  the  mamstrates  took  a different 
view  of  the  case,  because  they  dismissed  lie  charge.  It  made  no 
difierence  to  my  friendship  for  him. 

Was  this  same  Taylor  lunching  with  you  on  Tuesday  last? — 
Not  lunching.  He  came  to  my  house  to  see  me. 

When  did  you  first  meet  Fred  Atkins? — In  October,  1892.  He 
told  me  he  was  connected  with  a firm  of  bookmakers.  He  was 
about  nineteen  or  twenty.  I was  introduced  to  him  in  the  rooms 

^ See  below,  p.  159,  note  7. 

146 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  WiUc 

of  a gentleman  m Maigaret  Street,  off  Regent  StieeL  I did  not 
know  him  through  makmg  bets.  I dtd  not  ask  him  to  dinner  on 
the  first  day  I met  him.  I met  him  at  a dmner  given  by  another 
gentleman  whose  rooms  I met  hun  m first.  I was  friendly  with 
Atkins  on  that  occasion.  I called  him  "Fred”  and  he  called  me 
“Oscar.”  He  was  in  employment,  but  apologized  and  said  he 
neglected  his  business. 

Did  he  seem  to  you  an  idle  fellow? — Well,  yes,  But  he  was 
ambitious  to  go  on  the  music-hall  stage.  We  did  not  discuss 
literature.  I would  not  have  allowed  him  to.  The  art  of  the 
music-hall  was  as  far  as  he  got. 

Did  you  ask  him  to  go  to  Paris  with  you? — must  explain.  One 
Sunday  I saw  him  and  the  gentleman,  who  has  been  mentioned, 
lunching  at  the  Caf^  Royal.  I was  going  to  Pans  on  my  own 
account  in  reference  to  the  publication  of  a book.*  This  other 
gendeman  was  also  going  to  Pans  about  a position  on  Dalziel’s 
Agency.  It  was  suggested  that  we  should  all  go  together,  as  he  had 
promised  to  take  Atkins.  It  was  aiianged  that  we  should  go  on  a 
Monday,  but  subsequently  the  gentleman  found  that  he  could  not 
go  until  Tuesday  or  Wednesday.  Then,  as  Atkins  seemed  very 
much  disappointed,  the  gentleman  asked  me  if  I would  take  Fred 
ovei.  I said,  “With  the  greatest  pleasuie,”  and  I took  him. 

How  long  had  you  known  Atkins  then?— About  a fortnight. 
We  went  by  the  Club  train.  I paid  for  his  deket,  but  the  money 
was  refunded  to  me  afterwaids  by  the  gendeman.  I did  not 
suggest  to  Atkins  that  he  should  go  as  my  secretary— ridiculous, 
it’s  childish  to  ask  such  a thing.  I took  him  to  the  same  rooms  I 
occupied  in  the  hotel — ^29  Boulevard  des  Capucincs.  I engaged 
three  bedrooms,  having  one  in  reseive.  They  all  three  opened  on 
to  each  othei . I never  asked  Fied  to  copy  some  manuscript  for  me. 
I took  him  to  lunch  at  the  Cafe  Julien.  He  was  pracdcally  my 
guest,  as  representmg  the  gendeman  I have  mentioned. 

After  lunch  did  you  suggest  that  Atkins  should  have  his  hair 
curled?— He  suggested  it  himself,  and  I said  it  would  be  very 
unbecoming,  and  I told  him  it  was  a silly  thing  to  do,  an  absurd 
thing.  I should  have  been  very  angry  if  he  had  had  his  hair  curled 

Well,  did  he  get  his  hair  curled  at  Pascal’s,  the  hairdresser,  under 
the  Grand  Hotd? — I think  not. 

You  dined  with  him?— Yes. 

Gave  him  an  excellent  dinner?— I never  had  anything  else.  I 
do  everything  excellently. 

Did  you  give  him  plenty  of  wine  at  dinner?— As  I have  said 

9 Saiom^,  pubbshed  m Paris,  Pd^ruary,  1893. 

147 


Oscar  Wilde. 


OSCAC  Wilde 

before,  any  one  who  dines  at  my  table  is  not  stinted  in  wine.  If 
you  mean,  did  I ply  him  with  wine,  I say  “No!”  It’s  monstrous, 
and  I won't  have  it. 

I have  not  suggested  it. — But  you  have  suggested  it  before. 

After  dinner  did  you  give  liim  a sovereign  to  go  to  the  Moulin 
Rouge? — Yes.  I went  that  night,  I think,  to  a French  theatre, 
and  when  I got  back  to  the  hotel  Atkins  had  gone  to  bed. 

[The  witness  here  denied  any  impropriety  with  Atkins  in 
Paris,  and  added  that  it  would  be  an  infamous  lie  for  anyone  to 
say  so.] 

Did  the  gentleman  referred  to  arrive  next  day?— He  came  on 
the  Wednesday,  and  we  all  three  returned  together.  I gave  Fred 
a cigarette  ciise.  I found  him  a pleasant,  good-humoured  com- 
panion, but  I did  not  see  much  of  him  after  I got  to  Paris,  as  I 
had  business  to  look  after.  Shortly  after  getting  hack  to  London 
I was  ill  in  bed,  and  I wrote  to  the  gentleman  to  a.sk  Atkins  to 
call  upon  me  at  Tite  Street.  I don’t  think  he  came  by  himself. 

Did  you  ask  him  to  promise  that  he  would  s!iy  lunhing  about 
going  to  Paris?— No.  1 thought  it  was  the  great  event  cif  his  life, 
as  it  was.  I knew  before  going  to  Paris  that  Atkins  was  living  in 
Pimlico.  I have  written  several  letters  to  Atkins  thi.s  year,  one 
enclosing  him  tickets  for  my  play  at  the  theatre.  I went  to  Atkins’s 
rooms  to  tea  in  February,  i8p<|.  On  that  occa.sion  there  was  one 
other  gentleman  tha'e— an  actor.  It  was  at  Osnaburgh  Street. 

How  old  was  he?— About  twenty. 

Did  you  give  Atkins  any  money?— Yes;  15s.  to  buy  his  first 
song  for  the  music-hall  stage.  He  told  me  th.it  the  poets  who  wrote 
for  the  music-hall  never  took  less.  I had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
one  of  the  poets. 

Did  you  consider  Atkins  respectable?— Respectable?  Yes.  I 
thought  him  pleasant  and  young.  He  was  good-natured,  and  was 
going  on  to  the  music-hall  stage.  I heard  him  sing.  He  was 
interesting. . 

Was  he  alone  when  he  came  to  you  at  St.  James’s  Place? — 
. No;  I think  he  was  accompanied  by  the  young  actor.  I will  swear 
that  Atkins  was  not  alone  in  the  room  with  me. 

Did  any  improprieties  ever  take  place  between  you  and  Atkins? 
— ^None  whatever. 

You  knew  a man  named  Ernest  Scarfc?— Yes.  He  was  intro- 
duced to  me  by  Taylor.  He  is  a young  man  of  about  twenty,  of 
no  occupation,  He  had  been  in  Australia  at  the  gold-diggings. 

Did  you  know  he  was  a valet  and  is  a valet  still?— No.  I have 
148 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Wilde 

never  met  him  in  Society,  though  he  has  been  in  my  society,  which 
is  more  important. 

How  did  Taylor  iiitioduce  this  man  Scarfe?— Well,  Taylor 
told  me  he  knew  a young  man  who,  on  board  ship  going  out  to 
Australia,  had  met  Lord  Douglas  of  Hawick.  He  had  introduced 
him  to  Lord  Allred  Douglas  at  a skadng  rink.  I asked  Scarfe  to 
dine  with  myself  and  Taylor  at  Kettner’s.  I did  not  afterwards 
take  liim  back  to  my  rooms  at  St.  James’s.  1 have  never  embraced, 
kissed  or  caressed  him. 

Why  did  you  ask  him  to  dinner? — ^Because  I am  so  good- 
natured.  It  is  a good  action  to  ask  to  dinner  those  beneath  one  in 
social  stadon. 

Did  you  ever  give  Scaife  any  money? — Never. 

Did  you  give  him  any  presents?— Yes,  a cigarette  case.  It  cost 
;f4.  It  is  my  custom  to  present  cigarette  cases.  I last  saw  Scarfe 
in  February  when  he  dined  with  me  at  the  Avondale  Hotel. 

When  did  you  first  know  Sidney  Mavor?— In  September,  1893. 
He  was  introduced  to  me  by  the  same  gentleman  who  introduced 
Atkins. 

Do  you  know  where  that  genderaan  is  now?— No.  I have  not 
heard  of  him  for  eighteen  months  or  two  years.  I never  gave 
Mayor  any  money,  nor  did  I give  money  to  Taylor  to  hand  to 
Mavor.  I don’t  think  I even  gave  him  a cigarette  case,  but  it  may 
be  true  that  on  3rd  October  I ordered  Tbornhill’s  in  Bond  Street  to 
send  him  one  of  the  value  of  jC4  tis-  6d. 

Did  you  tell  them  to  send  it?— Well,  if  it  is  there,  perhaps  I 
did. 

But  you  had  known  him  only  a month?— Quite  long  enough 
to  get  to  feel  an  interest  in  him. 

Why  did  you  give  him  a cigarette  case  when  you  had  known 
him  only  a month? — I give  what  presents  I like  to  anybody  I like. 
Mavor  stayed  with  me  one  night  at  an  hotel  in  Albemarle  Street 
in  October,  1892.  I asked  him  to  stay  with  me  for  companionship, 
pleasure,  amusement.  I like  to  have  people  staying  with  me.  I 
took  two  bedrooms,  one  for  Mavor  and  one  for  myself.  He  never 
stayed  with  me  another  night.  On  the  occasion  referred  to  I was 
passing  through  London  and  I wanted  his  society,  as  he  was  a 
smart,  pleasant  young  fellow. 

And  did  you  find  pleasure  in  his  society  that  night?— Yes,  in 
the  evening  and  at  breakfast.  It  amused  and  pleased  him  that  I 
should  ask  him  to  be  my  guest  at  a very  nice,  charming  hotel. 

Witness  (on  being  shown  a photograph  of  MavorWAh,  taken 
at  a period  earlier  than  that  at  which  I knew  him.  (Counsel  held 
149 


Oscar  Wilde. 


OtciT  Wilde 

up  a cigarette  case.)  No,  really,  I could  not.  I have  given  so  many 
I could  not  recognize  it. 

Cross-examination  continued— Do  you  know  Waiter  Grainger? 
—Yes. 

How  old  is  he?— He  was  about  sixteen  when  I knew  him.  He 
was  a servant  at  a certain  house  in  High  Street,  Oxford,  where 
Lord  Aifred  Dougias  had  rooms.  I have  stayed  there  several  times. 
Grainger  waited  at  table.  I never  dined  with  him.  If  it  is  one’s 
duty  to  serve,  it  is  one’s  duty  to  serve;  and  if  it  is  one’s  picasure  to 
dine,  it  is  one’s  pleasure  to  dine. 

Did  you  ever  kiss  him? — Oh,  dear  no.  He  was  a peculiarly 
plain  boy.  He  was,  unfortunately,  extremely  ugly.  I pitied  him 
for  it. 

Was  that  the  reason  why  you  did  not  kiss  him? — Oh,  Mr. 
Carson,  you  are  pertinently  insolent. 

Did  you  say  that  in  support  of  your  statement  that  you  never 
kissed  him?— No.  It  is  a childish  question. 

Did  you  ever  put  diat  forward  as  a reason  why  you  never 
kissed  the  boy?— Not  at  all. 

Why,  sir,  did  you  mention  that  this  boy  was  extremely  ugly?-- 
For  this  reason.  If  I were  asked  why  I did  not  kiss  a door-mat,  I 
should  say  because  I do  not  like  to  kiss  door-mats.  I do  not 
know  why  I mentioned  that  he  was  ugly,  except  that  I was  stung 
by  the  insolent  question  you  put  to  me  and  the  way  you  have 
insulted  me  throughout  this  hearing.  Am  I to  be  cross-examined 
because  I do  not  like  it? 

Why  did  you  mention  his  ugliness? — It  is  ridicuious  to  imagine 
that  any  such  thing  could  have  occurred  under  any  circumstances. 

Then  why  did  you  mention  his  ugliness,  I ask  you?— Perhaps 
you  insulted  me  by  an  insulting  question. 

Was  that  a reason  why  you  should  say  the  boy  was  ugly?— 

[Here  the  witness  began  several  answers  almost  inarticulately,  and 
none  of  them  he  finished.  His  efforts  to  collect  his  ideas  were  not 
aided  by  Mr.  Carson’s  sharp  staccato  repetition:  “Why?  Why? 
Why  did  you  add  that?’’  At  last  the  witness  answered]  : You 
sting  me  and  insult  me  and  try  to  unnerve  me;  and  at  times  one 
says  things  flippantiy  when  one  ought  to  speak  more  seriously.  I 
admit  it. 

Then  you  said  it  flippantiy? — Oh,  yes,  it  was  a flippant  answer. 

Cross-examination  continued— 'No  indecencies  ever  took  place 
between  myself  and  Grainger.  I went  down  in  June,  1893,  to  stay 

ISO 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Obcu  \rade 

at  a cottage  at  Goring.  I brought  over  Grainger  as  under-butler. 
He  had  asked  me  to  get  him  a situation.  I never  on  any  occaaon 
asked  him  to  come  into  my  bedroom.  I don't  know  where  the 
butler  I had  then  is  now. 

Did  you  know  a masseur  at  the  Savoy  named  Antonio  Miggc? 
—Yes.  He  used  occasionally  to  massage  me  in  the  morning.  I 
stayed  at  the  Savoy  in  March,  1893,  but  never  on  that  occasion 
brought  boys  into  my  bedroom  there. 

Did  you  ever  bring  boys  into  your  rooms  at  the  hotel  in  Paris? 
—Never. 

Or  into  your  sitdng-room? — ^What  do  you  mean  by  boys? 

Boys  of  eighteen  or  twenty? — Oh,  yes;  many  called  to  see  me. 

Did  any  of  them  come  late  at  night— twelve  or  one  o’clock— and 
stay  till  (our  in  the  morning? — Certainly  not. 

Is  It  not  true  that  there  has  been  a scandal  at  the  Savoy  Hotel? — 
None  whatever. 

[An  incident  that  was  said  to  have  occurred  at  the  Savoy  Hotel 
was  put  to  the  witness  and  absolutely  denied.  "It  never  occurred,” 
he  declared,  “never,  never.”  Other  questions  were  put  to  him  con- 
taining criminal  suggestions,  only  to  be  denied  strenuously  and 
absolutely  with  gestures  of  disdain  and  disgust.] 

The  day  but  one  after  your  return  to  London  did  you  give 
Atkins  a silver  cigarette  case? — gave  him  one  in  Paris. 

You  say  he  called  on  you  at  'Tite  Street  shortly  afterwards? — 
Yes,  he  came  with  a gentleman  I know.  I thought  it  was  very  kind 
of  Atkins  to  come.  It  is  not  everybody  in  the  world  who  is 
grateful. 

You  paid  for  his  lunch  in  Paris? — Certainly,  I paid  for  his  lunch. 

He  had  not  the  means  to  pay  himself? — Certainly  not— not  for 
the  kind  of  lunch  I like. 

When  you  lunched  with  Wood  at  the  Florence,  before  his 
departure  for  America,  did  you  have  champagne? — Not  cham- 
pagne; I never  drink  in  the  middle  of  the  day. 

Where  did  you  first  meet  Charles  Parker?— At  Ketmer’s. 

Who  introduced  you? — Mr.  Taylor. 

Where  is  Parker  now? — don't  know. 

You  never  asked  him  his  age? — think  it  vulgar  to  ask  people 
their  age.  He  may  have  been  axteen  or  forty-five.  Don't  a^  me. 
'What  is  the  use  of  cross-examining  me  on  what  I don’t  know. 

Was  the  money  that  you  gave  him  given  to  him  all  at  once? — 
Yes,  all  at  once. 

And  you  gave  him  a silver  dgarette  case?— Yes. 

151 


Oscar  Wiltk', 


Oicnr  Wilde 

What  did  he  do  when  he  came  to  tea  witli  you?--You  ask  me 
what  a youdi  would  do? 

What  was  Parker  doing  there?— Notliing. 

Did  you  ever  have  a servant  called  “Ginger”? — Oh,  no. 

Did  you  ever  know  a man  named  Preston  who  was  mixed  up 
in  the  Cleveland  Street  scandal?— I never  heard  o£  him.'’ 

You  gave  Alphonse  Conway  a walking-stick,  didn’t  you?— Yes. 

It  was  a handsome  stick  for  a boy  of  that  class?— I did  not  think 
myself  that  it  was  a beautiful  stick. 

You  still  deny  that  you  made  Atkins  have  his  hair  curled  in 
Paris? — I told  him  that  it  would  be  silly;  and  I still  think  I was 
right  in  my  opinion. 

How  did  Taylor  come  to  bring  Scarfe  to  you?— Shall  I tell  you? 
He  brought  him  to  my  rooms  at  St.  James’s  Place 

The  honour  was  quite  unexpected?— It  was  no  shock,  but  I 
did  not  expect  him.  It  was  early  in  the  afternoon.  I made  an 
appointment  for  them  to  dine  with  me  on  another  day.  I forget 
whether  it  was  in  a public  or  a private  room. 

What  was  Scarfe?— lie  was  tlicn  employed  as  a clerk  in  St. 
Paul’s  Churchyard. 

Only  one  question  more.  Would  you  know  the  waiter  at  the 
hotel  in  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines  in  Paris?— Yes.  I tliink  I 
would, 

Re-examined  by  Sir  Edwahd  Clarkb  (Counsel  handed  witness 
several  letters  written  by  the  defendant)— Was  it  from  these  letters 
that  you  first  learned  that  Lord  Queensberiy  objected  to  your 
acquaintance  with  his  son.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas?— Yes. 

Carter’s  Hotel, 
Albemarle  Street,  W.i,, 
Sunday,  ist  April,  1894, 

Alfred,— It  is  extremely  painful  for  me  to  have  to  write 
to  you  in  the  strain  I must;  but  please  understand  that  I 
decline  to  receive  any  answers  from  you  in  writing  in  return. 
After  your  recent  hysterical  impertinent  ones  1 refuse  to  k 
annoyed  with  such,  and  I decline  to  read  any  more  letters. 
If  you  have  anything  to  say.  do  come  here  and  say  it  in  person. 
Firstly,  am  I to  understand  that,  having  left  Oxford  as  you 
did,  with  discredit  to  yourself,  the  reasons  of  which  were 


^ On  die  so-called  "Cleveland  Street  scandal/*  which  took  place  in  1889  and 
concerned  a male  brothel  in  London  ^equented  by  ceitaio  members  of  society,  see 
below,  Appendix  P,  atp.  383. 


152 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Willie 

fully  explained  to  me  by  your  tutor,  you  now  intend  to  loaf 
and  loll  about  and  do  nothing?  All  the  time  you  were  wast- 
ing at  Oxford  I was  put  ofi  with  an  assuiance  that  you  were 
eventually  to  go  into  the  Civil  Service  or  to  the  Foreign  Office, 
and  then  I was  put  off  with  an  assurance  that  you  were  going 
to  the  Bar.  It  appears  to  me  that  you  intend  to  do  noffiing. 
I utterly  decline,  however,  to  just  supply  you  with  sufficient 
funds  to  enable  you  to  loaf  about.  You  are  preparing  a 
wretched  future  for  yourself,  and  it  would  be  most  cruel  and 
wrong  for  me  to  encourage  you  in  this,  Secondly,  I come  to 
the  more  painful  part  of  this  letter— your  intimacy  with 
this  man  Wilde.  It  must  either  cease  or  I will  disown  you 
and  stop  all  money  supplies.  1 am  not  going  to  try  and 
aruilyse  this  intimacy,  and  I make  no  charge;  but  to  my  mind 
to  pose  as  a thing  is  as  bad  as  to  be  it.  With  my  own  eyes 
I siiw  you  both  in  the  most  loathsome  and  disgusting  relation- 
ship as  expressed  by  your  manner  and  expression.  Never  in 
my  experience  have  I seen  such  a sight  as  that  in  your 
horrible  features.  No  wonder  people  are  talking  as  they  are. 
Also  I now  hear  on  good  authority,  but  this  may  be  false, 
that  his  wife  is  petitioning  » divorce  him  for  sodomy  and 
other  crimes.  Is  this  true,  or  do  you  not  know  of  it?  If  I 
thought  the  actual  thing  was  true,  and  it  became  public  pro- 
perty, I should  be  quite  justified  in  shooting  him  at  sight. 
These  Christian  English  cowards  and  men,  as  they  call  them- 
selves, want  waking  up.  Your  disgusted  so-called  father, 

Quxensierky. 

Re-examination  continued— h there  any  foundation  for  the  state- 
ment that  your  wife  was  petitioning  for  a divorce  ?~Not  the 
slightest, 

[Sir  Edward  Clarke  began  to  read  the  second  letter  to  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas.] 


3rd  April,  1894. 

You  impertinent  young  jackanapes.  I request  that  you 
will  not  send  such  messages  to  me  by  telegraph. 

Mr.  Carson  (interrupting)— Read  the  telegram  from  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  to  his  hther. 

[Sir  Edward  Clarke  read  the  telegram,  which  was  handed  in.] 
1S3 


Ojcar  'Wliae 


Oscar  Wilde. 


and  April,  1894. 

To  Queensberry,  Carter’s  Hotel,  Albemarle  Street. 

What  a funny  little  man  you  are.  Alfbed  Doucus. 

[Sir  Edward  Clarke  continued  his  reading  of  the  second  letter.l 

If  you  send  me  any  more  such  telegrams,  or  come  with 
any  impertinence,  I will  give  you  the  thrashing  you  deserve. 
Your  only  excuse  is  that  you  must  be  crazy.  I hear  from  a 
man  at  Oxford  that  you  were  thought  crazy  there,  and  that 
accounts  for  a good  deal  that  has  happened.  If  I catch  you 
again  with  that  man  I will  make  a public  scandal  in  a way. 
you  litde  dream  of;  it  is  already  a suppressed  one.  I prefer 
an  open  one,  and  at  any  rate  I shall  not  be  blamed  for  allow- 
ing such  a state  of  things  to  go  on.  Unless  this  acquaintance 
ceases  1 shall  carry  out  my  direat  and  stop  all  supplies,  and 
if  you  are  not  going  to  make  any  attempt  to  do  something 
I shall  certainly  cut  you  down  to  a mere  pittance,  so  you  know 
what  to  expect. 

[Sir  Edward  Clarke  then  read  the  three  following  letters.  The 
first  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Alfred  Montgomery,  father  of  Lord 
Queensberry’s  first  wife,  from  whom  he  had  been  divorced.  The 
two  other  letters  were  to  Lord  Allred  Douglas.] 

Skindles  Hotel, 
Miiidenhead,  6th  July,  1894. 
Sir, 

I have  changed  my  mind,  and  as  I am  not  at  all  well, 
having  been  very  much  upset  by  what  has  happened  the  last 
ten  days,  I do  not  see  why  I should  come  dancing  attendance 
upon  you.  Your  daughter  is  the  person  who  is  supporting  my 
son  to  defy  me.  She  won’t  write,  but  she  is  now  telegraphing 
on  the  subject  to  me.  Last  night,  after  hearing  from  you,  I 
received  a very  quibbling,  prevaricating  message  from  hex, 
saying  the  boy  denied  having  been  at  Ae  Savoy  for  the  last 
year;  but  why  send  the  telegram  unless  he  could  deny  that 
he  had  been  there  with  Oscar  Wilde  at  all?  As  a matter  of 
fact  he  did,  and  there  has  been  a stinking  scandal.  I am  told 
they  were  warned  off,  but  the  proprietor  would  not  admit 
this.  This  hideous  scandal  has  been  going  on  for  years. 
Your  daughter  must  be  mad  by  the  way  she  is  behaving.  She 
evidently  wants  to  make  out  fhat  I want  to  make  out  a case 
against  my  son.  It  is  nothing  of  the  kind.  I have  made  out 
a case  against  Oscar  Wilde  and  1 have  to  his  face  accused  him 

154 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oicir  WlMe 

of  it.  If  1 was  quite  certain  of  the  thing  I would  shoot  the 
fellow  on  sight,  but  I can  only  accuse  him  of  posing.  It  now 
lies  in  the  hands  of  the  two  whether  they  will  further  defy 
me.  Your  daughter  appears  now  to  be  encouraging  them, 
although  she  can  hardly  intend  this.  I don’t  believe  Whde 
will  now  dare  defy  me.  He  plainly  showed  the  white  feather 
the  other  day  when  I tackled  him— damned  cur  and  coward 
of  the  Rosebery  type.  As  for  this  so-called  son  of  mine,  he 
is  no  son  of  mine,  and  I will  have  nothing  to  do  with  him. 
He  may  starve  as  far  as  I am  concerned  after  his  behavbur 
to  me.  His  mother  may  support  him,  but  she  shan’t  do  that 
here  in  London  tvith  this  awful  scandal  going  on.  But  your 
daughter’s  conduct  is  outrageous,  and  I am  now  fully  con- 
vinced that  the  Rosebery-Gkdstone-Royal  insult  that  came  to 
me  through  my  other  son,  that  she  worked  that— I thought  it 
was  you.  I saw  Drumlanrig  here  on  the  river,  which  much 
upset  me.  It  shall  be  known  some  day  by  all  that  Rosebery 
not  only  insulted  me  by  lying  to  the  Queen,  which  makes  her 
as  bad  as  him  and  Gladstone,  but  also  has  made  a lifelong 
quarrel  between  my  son  and  1/ 

Scotland,  21st  August,  1894. 

I have  received  your  post<ard,  which  I presume  is  from 
you,  but  as  the  writing  is  utterly  unreadable  to  me,  have 
been  unable  to  make  out  hardly  one  sentence.  My  object  of 
receiving  no  written  communication  from  you  is  therefore 
kept  intact.  All  future  cards  will  go  into  the  fire  unread. 
I presume  these  are  the  “hyerogliphics”  (sic)  of  the  O.W. 
poslng-club,  of  which  you  have  the  reputation  of  being  such 
a shining  light.  I congratulate  you  on  your  autography;  it 
is  beautiful,  and  should  help  you  to  get  a living.  I don’t 
know  what  at,  but,  say  crossing-sweeping.  My  friend  I am 
staying  with  has  made  out  some  of  your  letter,  and  wished  to 
read  it  to  me,  but  I declined  to  hear  a word.  However, 
according  to  his  advice  I shall  keep  It  as  a specimen,  and 
also  as  a protecdon  in  case  I ever  feel  tempted  to  give  you 
the  thrashing  you  really  deserve.  You  reptile.  You  are  no 
son  of  mine  and  I never  thought  you  were. 

Quebnsberky. 


*I.ord  Queensbetjv  was  a represouative  peer  for  Scotland  from  i8n  to  1880, 
when  he  failed  to  obtain  re-elecdon.  His  eldest  son.  Viscount  Dramlanrig,  was 
private  secretary  to  the  Earl  of  Rosebery,  and  wia  created  a peer  of  the  United 
Kinedom,  under  the  title  of  Baron  Kelhead,  in  1893,  during  Lord  Rosebery'a 
Porcigu  Secretaryship.  He  thus  had  a seat  in  ke  House  of  Lords,  from  which  his 
father  was  exetuded.  Lord  Kelhead  died  from  a gun  accident  on  8dr  October,  1894^ 

155 


OkCdr  WHde 


Oscar  Wilde 


26  Portland  Place,  W., 

28th  August, 

You  miserable  creature, 

I received  your  telegram  by  post  from  Carter’s  and  have 
requested  them  not  tn  forward  any  more,  but  just  to  tear  any 
up,  as  I did  yours,  without  reading  it,  directly  I was  aware 
from  whom  it  came.  You  must  be  flush  of  money  to  waste 
it  on  such  rubbish.  I have  learned,  thank  goodness,  to  turn 
the  keenest  pangs  to  peacefulness.  What  could  be  keener 
pain  than  to  have  such  a son  as  yourself  fathered  upon  one? 
However,  there  is  always  a bright  side  to  every  cloud,  and 
whatever  is  is  light  (sic).  If  you  arc  my  son,  it  is  only  con- 
firming proof  to  me,  if  I needed  any,  how  right  I was  to  face 
every  horror  and  misery  I have  done  rather  than  run  the  risk 
of  bringing  more  creatures  into  the  world  like  yourself,  and 
that  was  the  entire  and  only  reason  of  my  breaking  with  your 
mother  as  a wife,  so  intensely  was  1 dissatisfied  with  her  as 
the  mother  of  you  children,  and  particularly  yourself,  whom, 
when  quite  a baby,  I aied  over  you  the  bitterest  tears  a man 
ever  sited,  that  I had  brought  such  a a-eature  into  the  world, 
and  unwittingly  had  committed  such  a crime.  If  you  are  not 
my  son,  and  in  this  Christian  country  with  these  hypocrites 
’tis  a wise  father  who  knows  his  own  diild,  and  no  wonder  on 
the  principles  they  intermarry  on,  but  to  be  fore-warned  is  to 
be  lore-armed.  No  wonder  you  have  fallen  a prey  to  this 
horrible  bmte.  I am  only  sorry  for  you  as  a human  creature, 
You  must  gang  your  ain  gait.  Well,  it  would  be  rather  a 
satisfacdon  to  me,  because  the  crime  then  is  not  to  me.  As 
you  see,  I am  philosophical  and  take  comfort  from  anything; 
but,  really,  I am  sorry  for  you.  You  must  be  demented;  there 
is  madness  on  your  mother’s  side,  and  indeed  few  families  in 
this  Chrisdan  country  are  without  it,  if  you  look  into  them. 
But  please  cease  annoying  me,  for  I will  not  correspond  with 
you,  nor  reedve  nor  answer  letters,  and  as  for  money,  you 
sent  me  a lawyer’s  letter  to  say  you  would  take  none  from 
me,  but  anyhow  until  you  change  your  life  I should  refuse 
any;  it  depends  on  yourself  whether  I will  ever  recognize 
you  at  all  again  after  your  behaviour.  I will  make  allow- 
ance; I think  you  are  demented,  and  I am  very  sorry  for 
you. 

Queensberry. 

Re-examination  continued— Youx  friendship,  Mr.  Wilde,  with 
Lady  Queensberry  and  the  other  son  has  continued  to  the  present? 

156 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Wilde 

—Yes,  Having  regard  to  the  character  of  the  letters,  I thought  it 
right  to  disregard  entirely  tlte  wishes  contained  in  them.  The 
letters  were  brought  to  my  knowledge  some  time  ago  by  the 
persons  who  received  them. 

What  do  you  say  now  about  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray?— Mr. 
Walter  Pater  wrote  me  several  letters  about  The  Picture  of  Dorian 
Gray,  and  in  consequence  of  what  he  said  I modified  one  passage.* 
The  book  was  very  widely  reviewed,  among  others  by  Mr.  Pater 
himself.  I wrote  a reply  to  the  reviews  which  appeared  in  the 
Scots  Observer. 

[Sir  Edward  Clarke  read  a number  of  extracts  from  The 
Picture  of  Dorian  Gray  to  offset  those  read  on  the  previous  day  by 
Mr,  Carson.  Counsel  also  read  some  passages  from  the  witness’s 
correspondence  with  the  Scots  Observer,  which  included  the  follow- 
ing extracts  from  a letter  from  the  witness  to  the  editor  of  that 
journal,  dated  gth  July,  i8go.] 

"Your  reviewer,  Sir,  while  admitting  that  the  story  in 
question  is  ‘plainly  the  work  of  a man  of  letters,’  the  work 
of  one  who  has  'brains,  and  art,  and  style,’  yet  suggests,  and 
apparently  in  all  seriousness,  that  I have  written  it  in  order 
that  it  should  be  read  by  the  most  depraved  members  of  the 
criminal  and  illiterate  classes.  Now,  Sir,  I do  not  suppose 
that  die  criminal  and  illiterate  classes  ever  read  anything 
except  newspapers.  They  arc  certainly  not  likely  to  be  able 
to  understand  anything  of  mine.  So  let  them  pass,  and  on  the 
broad  question  of  why  a man  of  letters  writes  at  all  let  me  say 
this. 

The  pleasure  that  one  has  in  creating  a work  of  art  is  a 
purely  personal  pleasure,  and  it  is  for  the  sake  of  this  pleasure 
that  one  creates.  The  ardst  works  with  his  eye  on  the 
object.  Nothing  else  interests  him.  What  people  arc  likely  to 
say  does  not  even  occur  to  him. 

He  is  fascinated  by  what  he  has  in  hand.  He  is  indifferent 
to  others.  I write  because  it  gives  me  the  greatest  possible 
artistic  pleasure  to  write.  If  my  work  pleases  the  few,  I am 
gratified.  If  it  does  not,  it  causes  me  no  pain.  As  for  the 
mob,  I have  no  desire  to  be  a popular  novelist.  It  is  far  too 
easy. 

Your  critic  then,  Sir,  commits  the  absolutely  unpardonable 

s This  was  probably  the  second  o£  the  duee  passages  from  the  book  which  had 
been  put  by  Carson  to  WOdc  in  crosS'examuiBtion  and  which  Queensberry’t 
counsel  claimed  to  have  been  “left  out  in  the  purged  edition.**  See  above,  p.  iiS. 

157 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Wilde 

crime  of  trying  to  confuse  the  artist  with  his  subject-matter. 
For  this,  Sir,  there  is  no  excuse  at  all. 

Of  one  who  is  the  greatest  figure  in  the  world's  literature 
since  Greek  days  Keats  remarked  that  he  had  as  much  pleasure 
in  conceiving  ie  evil  as  he  had  in  conceiving  the  good.  Let 
your  reviewer,  Sir,  consider  the  bearings  of  Keats's  fine 
criticism,  for  it  is  under  these  conditions  that  every  ardst 
works.  One  stands  remote  from  one's  subject-matter.  The 
further  away  the  subject-matter  is,  the  more  freely  can  the 
artist  work. 

Your  reviewer  suggests  that  I do  not  make  it  sufficiendy 
clear  whether  I prefer  virtue  to  wickedness  or  wickedness  to 
virtue.  An  artist.  Sir,  has  no  ethical  sympathies  at  all.  Virtue 
and  wickedness  are  to  him  simply  what  the  colours  on  his 
palette  arc  to  the  painter.  They  are  no  more,  and  they  are 
no  less.  He  sees  that  by  thmr  means  a certain  artistic  effect 
can  be  produced  and  he  produces  it,  lago  may  be  morally 
horrible  and  Imogen  staiidessly  pure.  Shakespeare,  as  Keats 
said,  had  as  much  delight  in  creating  the  one  as  he  had  in 
creating  the  other. 

It  was  necessary.  Sir,  for  the  dramatic  development  of  this 
story,  to  surround  Dorian  Gray  with  an  atmosphere  of  moral 
corruption.  Otherwise  the  story  would  have  had  no  meaning 
and  the  plot  no  issue.  To  keep  this  atmosphere  vague  and 
indeterminate  and  wonderful  was  the  aim  of  the  ardst  who 
wrote  the  story.  I claim.  Sir,  that  he  has  succeeded.  Each 
man  sees  his  own  sin  in  Dorian  Gray.  What  Dorian  Gray's 
sins  are  no  one  knows.  He  who  finds  them  has  brought 
them.” 

Re-examiaation  continued — How  did  you  first  meet  Mr.  Taylor? 
—I  first  met  Alfred  Taylor  through  the  gendeman  who  has  been 
referred  to.'  It  is  now  two  years  since  that  gendeman  has  been 
in  England  and  I have  not  seen  him  in  that  time. 

Is  that  gendeman  a gentleman  of  position  and  repute? — ^Yes;  a 
gendeman  of  good  birth  and  repute.  I knew  that  Taylor  had  lost 
a lot  of  money  he  had  inherited,  but  that  he  still  retained  a share 
in  some  business,  I knew  that  he  was  educated  at  Marlborough 
School. 

Had  he  any  accomplishments?— -Yes;  he  played  the  piano  very 
charmingly. 

Had  you  at  the  time  of  your  introduction  to  him,  or  since,  had 


* Schwabe. 


IS# 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscai  Wilde 

any  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  a disreputable  and  immoral 
person? — None  whatever.  I understood  that  the  charge  against 
Taylor  and  others  in  connexion  with  the  Fitzroy  Street  raid,  was 
for  assembly  at  the  place  for  unlawful  and  felonious  purposes.  He 
told  me  the  occasion  was  a benefit  concert,  and  that  he  was  asked 
to  play  the  piano.  I read  of  die  charge  in  the  Daily  Chronicle. 

Did  you  gather  what  they  were  charged  with?— Oh,  yes,  yes. 

What  was  the  charge  ?-^o  fiir  as  I could  gather  they  were 
charged  with  being  there  for  an  unlawful  purpose. 

You  were  much  distressed? — ^Yes. 

He  wrote  you  a letter?— He  told  me  that  he  had  been  given  a 
ticket  for  the  concert.  Two  men  came  in  women’s  dress  to  take 
part  in  the  concert,  and  the  police  immediately  broke  in  and 
arrested  everybody  in  the  place. 

Was  any  impression  left  on  your  mind  that  Taylor  was  at  all 
to  blame?— Certainly  not.  I thought  it  monstrous.’ 

Who  introduced  you  to  Mr.  Shelley? — I was  introduced  to  the 
youth  Shelley  by  Mr.  John  Lane,  whose  firm,  Mathews  & Lane,  was 
publishing  one  of  my  books.  I regarded  Shelley  as  a very  interest- 
ing personality.  He  was  thirsting  after  information,  and  had 
literary  tastes.  He  admired  my  works,  and  I acknowledged  that  by 
sending  him  copies.® 

It  appears  that  in  the  copies  which  have  been  produced  the 
flyleaf  has  been  torn  out.  Did  you  write  in  those  or  in  any  other 
books  anything  that  you  would  object  to  the  whole  world  seeing?— 
Never  in  my  life. 

The  Court  adjourned  for  luncheon. 

(The  witness  did  not  resume  his  place  in  the  box  until  ten 
minutes  after  the  Court  had  re-assembled.) 

Witness  (m  Judge)— My  lord,  pray  accept  my  apologies  for 
being  late  in  the  witness-box.  It  is  due  to  the  dock  being  wrong 
in  the  hotel  where  I was  lunching. 

T On  X2th  August,  1894,  tiie  police  raided  a club  at  46  Fitzroy  SUeet,  hiving 
previously  kept  watch,  on  die  premises.  Eighteen  persons  were  taken  into  custody, 
induding  two  in  feminine  dress.  At  the  subsequent  Police  Court  proceeding!  it 
Great  Marlborough  Street  two  of  the  accused  were  bound  over,  while  the  remainder, 
who  included  Alfred  Taylor  and  Charles  Parker,  were  discharged. 

s Mr.  John  Lane,  formerlv  a partner  in  the  Arm  of  Elkin  Mathews  and  John 
Lane,  who  was  in  New  York  at  this  ame,  cabled  denying  the  statement  that  he 
had  introduced  Shelley  to  Wilde.  They  became  a^uiinted,  he  sa^,  when 
Shelley  was  in  the  employment  of  Mr.  Mathews.  Mr.  Lane  never  introduced 
anyone  Xf>  Mr.  Wilde.  Their  relations  were  endrely  of  a business  nature. 

159 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Willie 

[Sir  Edward  Clarke  read  a number  of  letters  from  Shelley. 
Some  of  them  expressed  great  admiration  for  Wilde’s  writings, 
such  as  the  following,  which  was  written  after  Shelley  had  been  to 
the  first  night  of  Lady  Windermere's  Fan.] 

"Such  beauty  of  form  and  art  adds  new  flavour  to  life. 
How  miserably  poor  everything  seems  beside  it,  except  your 
books,  but  your  books  are  part  of  yourself.” 

[Another  letter  from  Shelley  read  by  counsel  was  expressive  of 
the  hardship  the  writer  had  to  endure  and  showed  a certab  morbid 
outlook.] 


"I  want  to  go  away  and  not  remember.  I am  preparing 
to  lead  a Christian  life,  and  I accept  poverty  as  part  of  my 
religion,  but  1 must  have  health.” 

[Witness  said  he  had  helped  Shelley  with  encouragement  and 
money.  | 

Re-examination  continued— la  answer  to  a letter  from  Shelley  I 
gave  him  £5  to  enable  him  to  go  away  for  a change  of  air. 

Were  there  ever  any  relations  between  you  and  Edward  Shelley, 
except  the  relations  of  letters  with  a man  who  admired  his  poetry 
and  works,  and  one  with  whom  he  had  come  in  contact?— Never 
on  any  occasion. 

What  do  you  say  about  Alphonse  Conway?— The  lad  expressed 
ao  intense  desire  to  go  to  sea.  I consulted  a friend  of  mine  who 
had  many  ships,  and  I wrote  to  Conway  and  cold  him  the  result 
of  my  inquiries. 

Did  you  ever  hear  that  he  had  been  employed  as  a newspaper 
boy? — No,  I never  heard  that  he  was  connected  with  literature 
in  any  form. 

Did  Mrs.  Wilde  see  Conway?— Oh,  yes,  constantly.  The  boy 
became  a great  friend  of  my  sons.  He  used  to  go  out  fishing  and 
sailing  and  bathing  with  me  and  my  sons  and  my  sons’  friends. 

How  long  did  you  stay  at  Woiihing?— About  two  months,  but 
I was  not  there  continuously. 

Did  you  have  a house  at  Worthing?— Yes,  a furnished  house. 
My  wife  and  boys  were  there  most  of  the  time. 

Have  you  seen  Conway  since  you  left  Worthing?— No,  but  I 
have  written  to  him  with  reference  to  his  going  as  an  apprentice 
on  a ship. 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oieaf  Wilde 

[WitncM  denied  any  unlawful  practices  with  Alphonse 
Conway.] 

When  did  you  first  see  Wood? — At  the  end  of  January,  1893. 
It  was  at  the  Cafe  Royal.  I understood  that  he  had  been  a clerk. 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas  has  asked  me  to  do  what  1 could  for  him, 
and  I did.  I had  no  idea,  none  whatsoever,  of  what  had  been  the 
occupation  of  Charles  Parker  and  his  brother. 

Have  you  ever  seen  Charles  Parker  in  the  Savoy?— Never  in 
my  life. 

With  regard  to  Walter  Grainger,  how  long  was  he  in  your 
service? — ^About  three  months. 

Was  he  in  ill-health  during  the  greater  part  of  that  time?— Yes. 

Now,  as  to  these  several  persons  to  whom  you  were  introduced, 
had  you  any  reason  to  suspect  them  of  being  immoral  or  disreputable 
persons? — ^None  whatever.  Beyond  reading  the  statements  in  the 
papers  about  the  raid  in  Fitzroy  Street  I never  saw  any  intimation 
that  there  was  anything  immoral  in  the  nature  of  the  young  men; 
and  in  that  case  the  men  were  discharged. 

How  was  it  that  after  the  interview  with  Lord  Queensberry  on 
30th  June  and  the  letters  that  came  to  your  knowledge,  you  did  not 
then  take  steps  against  Lord  Queensberry?— On  account  of  the 
strong  pressure  put  upon  me  by  the  Queensberry  family,  which  I 
did  not  feel  myself  able  to  resist.  On  the  Wednesday  following 
the  Saturday  on  which  Lord  Queensberry’s  visit  occurred,  I had  an 
interview  with  a member  of  the  Queensberry  family,  a gentleman 
who  was  also  a Member  of  Parliament,* 

S\t  the  request  of  Mr.  Carson  the  following  post-card  from 
Alfred  Elouglas  to  Lord  Queensberry  was  put  in. 

Sir  EnwARn  Clarke  objected,  but  the  judge  ruled  in  Mr, 
Carson’s  favour,  and  the  card  was  read.] 

" As  you  return  my  letters  unopened  I am  obliged  to  write 
on  a post-card.  I write  to  inform  you  that  1 treat  your  absurd 
threats  with  absolute  indiSerence.  Ever  since  your  exhibition 
at  O.W.’s  house  I have  made  a point  of  appearing  with  him 
at  many  public  restaurants,  su^  as  the  Berkeley,  Willis’s 
Rooms,  the  Cafd  Royal,  ate.,  and  I shall  continue  to  go  to 
any  of  these  places  whenever  I choose  and  with  whom  I 
choose.  I am  of  age  and  my  own  master.  You  have  disowned 


George  Wyndham.  See  above,  p.  13. 

I 161 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oicw  Wlldt 

me  at  least  a dozen  times  and  have  meanly  deprived  me  of 
money.  You  have  therefore  no  right  over  me  cither  legal  or 
mortd.  If  O.W.  was  to  prosecute  you  in  the  Criminal  Courts 
for  libel  you  would  get  seven  years’  penal  servitude  for  your 
outrageous  libels.  Much  as  I detest  you  I am  anxious  to 
avoid  this  for  the  sake  of  the  family;  but  if  you  try  to  assault 
me  I shall  defend  myself  with  a loaded  revolver  which  I 
always  carry;  and  if  1 shoot  you,  or  he  shoots  you,  we  should 
be  completdy  justified,  as  we  should  be  acting  in  self-defence 
against  a violent  and  dangerous  rough,  and  I think  if  you 
were  dead  not  many  people  would  miss  you. 

A.  D." 


Sir  Edward  Clarke — If  I had  known  the  post-card  was  legible 
would  not  have  objected. 

[The  following  correspondence  between  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde’s 
olicitors  and  the  Marquess  of  Qucensberry  was  then  read.] 

Giltspur  Chambers, 

Holbom  Viaduct,  E.C.,  nth  July,  1894. 

My  Lord  Marquis, 

We  have  been  consulted  by  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  with  refer- 
ence to  certain  letters  written  by  your  lordship,  in  which 
letters  you  have  most  foully  and  infamously  libelled  him,  and 
also  your  son.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  In  these  letters  your 
lordship  has  mentioned  exalted  personages  and  Mr.  Oscar 
Wilde,  not  being  desirous  to  wound  their  feelings  by  a 
publication  of  your  letter,  has  instructed  us  to  give  you  the 
opportunity  of  retracting  your  assertions  and  insinuations  in 
writing,  with  an  apology  for  having  made  them.  If  this  be 
done  at  once  it  may  prevent  litigation,  but  unless  done  forth- 
with no  other  course  will  be  left  open  to  us  but  to  advise  our 
client  as  to  the  proper  course  to  adopt  to  vindicate  his 
character. 

Awaiting  your  reply  by  return  of  post, 

We  have  the  honour  to  be,  &c., 

C.  0.  Humphreys,  Son  & Kershaw. 


Sir, 


Skindles, 

Maidenhead,  r3th  July. 


I have  received  your  letter  here  with  considerable  astonish- 
ment. I certainly  shall  not  tender  to  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  any 
162 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

Oscar  Wilde 

apology  for  letters  I have  written  to  my  son.  I have  made  no 
direct  accusation  against  Mr.  Oscar  WMe,  but  desired  to  stop 
the  association  as  far  as  my  son  is  concerned. 

Yours  faithfully, 

Queensbekri. 

Skindlcs, 

Maidenhead  Bridge,  i8th  July. 
Sir, 

Since  seeing  you  this  morning  I have  heard  that  the 
revolver  has  been  given  up.  I shall  therefore  not  insist  on 
taking  the  step  I threatened  to  do  to-morrow  morning  of 
giving  information  to  the  police  authorities.  However,  if 
this  is  to  go  on,  and  I am  to  be  openly  defied  by  Mr.  Oscar 
Wilde  and  my  son  by  further  scandals  in  public  places,  I shall 
have  no  other  resort  but  to  do  as  I have  threatened  and  give 
informadon  at  Scotland  Yard  as  to  what  has  happened. 

Yours  faithfully, 

QUEENSSBSEy. 

By  the  Foreman  of  the  Jury— Was  the  editor  of  The  Chameleon 
a personal  friend  of  the  witness?— No,  he  was  not.  I only  met 
him  once.  I never  saw  him  at  the  dme  he  wrote  to  me  from 
Oxford  and  asked  me  to  contribute  to  that  magazine.  I subse- 
quendy  saw  him  in  the  month  of  May  in  a friend’s  rooms.  I first 
wrote  to  him  to  say  that  I had  really  nothing  to  give  him  at  aU. 
Afterwards  I said  that  I would  give  him  some  aphorisms  out  of 
my  plays.  Some  of  them  were  unpublished.  Some  of  those  quoted 
yesterday  are  out  of  the  play  at  present  being  performed  at  the 
Haymarket,^  and  there  have  been  no  complaints  at  the  box-office 
of  any  moral  depreciarion  of  the  audience. 

Was  The  Chameleon  for  private  circulation? — Oh,  no. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — ^Wc  will  hand  in  a copy.  Only  one 
hundred  copies  were  to  be  printed.  They  were  for  the  public. 

By  the  Foreman  of  the  Jury— Was  Mr.  Wilde  aware  of  the 
character  of  the  story,  “The  Priest  and  the  Acolyte”? — I was  not. 
It  came  upon  me  as  a great  shock. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke  [having  read  some  further  correspondence, 
which  had  passed  between  the  defendant  and  the  prosecutor’s 
solicitors,  with  a view  to  showing  that  the  “exalted  persons” 

1 An  Ideal  Husband,  produced  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  3rd  January,  1895. 

163 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Wilds 

mentioned  were  not  mcniioncd  m i-elation  to  the  charges  made 
against  the  prosecutor  by  the  defendant;]— My  Lord,  the  case  for 
the  prosecution  is  closed  for  the  present.  [Mr.  Carson  objected 
to  this  qualification,  and  Sir  Edward  Curre  continued :] —Of 
course,  I reserve  to  myself  the  power  to  call  evidence  to  rebut 
anything  that  may  be  sprung  upon  me. 

Mr.  Justice  Coums—Broadly  put,  the  case  for  the  prosecution 
must  close  now,  but  at  my  discretion  I may  admit  some  other 
rridence. 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Mr.  Edward  Carson,  Q.C.— May  it  please  you,  my  lord, 
gentleman  of  the  jury.  In  appearing  in  this  case  for  Lord 
Queensberry  I cannot  but  feel  that  a very  grave  responsibility  rests 
upon  me.  So  far  as  Lord  Queensberry  is  conrerned,  in  any  act  he 
has  done,  in  any  letter  he  has  written,  or  in  the  matter  of  the  card 
which  has  ptu  him  in  the  present  position,  he  withdraws  nothing. 
He  has  done  .all  those  things  with  a premeditation  and  a deter- 
mination, at  all  risks,  and  at  all  h.azards  to  tiy  to  save  his  son. 
Whether  Lord  Queensberry  was  right  or  whetlier  he  was  wrong, 
you  have  probably  to  .some  extent  information  on  which  you  can 
found  a judgment.  I must  say  for  Lord  Queensberry,  notwith- 
standing the  many  elements  of  prqudice  which  my  learned  friend. 
Sir  Edward  Clarke,  thought  fit  to  introduce  into  the  case  in  his 
opening  speech,  that  Lord  Queensberry's  conduct  in  this  respect  lus 
been  absolutely  consistent  dl  through,  and  if  the  facts  which  he 
stated  in  his  letters  as  to  Mr.  Wilde’s  reputation  and  acts  are  correct, 
then  not  only  was  he  justified  in  doing  what  he  could  to  cut  short 
what  would  probably  prove  a most  disastrous  acquaint.incc  for  his 
son,  but  in  taking  every  step  which  suggested  itself  to  him  to  bring 
about  an  inquiry  into  the  acts  and  doings  of  Mr.  Wilde. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  names  of  eminent  persons,  distinguished 
^rson.s,  have  been  introduced  into  Lord  Queensberry’s  letters. 
It  has  been  suggested  that  the  names  of  those  distinguished  persons 
are  in  some  way  or  other  mixed  up  in  Lord  Queensberry’s  letters 
with  the  charges  against  Mr.  Wilde.  I am  very  glad  that  those 
letters  have  been  read,  and  I think  my  learned  ftiend  took  a very 
proper  course  in  having  those  letters  read,  because  they  proved 
that  those  names  were  introduced  in  a way  which  had  absolutely  no 
connexion  with  the  charges  made  in  the  letters  against  Mr.  Oscar 
Wilde.  Those  names  were  introduced  in  relation  to  purely  political 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Mr.  Edward  Carson 

matters  arising  out  of  the  fact  that  the  late  Lord  Drumlanrig,  the 
eldest  son  of  the  Marquess,  was  made  a member  of  the  House  of 
Lords,  of  which  his  father  was  not  a member.  Rightly  or  wrongly, 
Lord  Queensberry  felt  aggrieved  that  an  honour  should  have  been 
conferred  on  his  son  which  was  not  given  to  him.  That  was  how 
the  names  of  eminent  politicians  and  statesmen  came  to  be  men- 
tioned. 

Gendcmen,  from  beginning  to  end  Lord  Queensberry,  in  deal- 
ing with  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde,  has  been  influenced  by  one  hope  alone 
— that  of  saving  his  son.  What  is  Mr.  Wilde’s  own  case?  The 
prosecutor  has  said  that  up  to  a certain  date  he  was  on  terms  of 
friendship  with  Lord  Queensberry,  and  therefore  there  were  no 
circumstances  rendering  his  lordship  liable  to  the  accusation  that 
what  he  had  done  in  the  present  case  was  done  from  malice  arising 
out  of  disagreement.  Lord  Queensberry  came  to  know  of  Mr. 
Wilde’s  character,  of  the  scandals  in  connexion  with  the  Savoy 
Hotel,  that  the  prosecutor  had  been  going  about  with  young  men 
who  were  not  co-equal  with  him  in  position  or  in  age,  and  that  he 
had  been  associating  with  men  who,  it  will  be  proved  beyond  doubt, 
are  some  of  the  most  immoral  characters  in  London.  I refer  above 
all  to  the  man  Taylor,  a most  notorious  character— as  the  police  will 
tell  the  Court— who  occupied  rooms  which  were  nothing  more  or 
less  than  a shameful  den.  Whether  Taylor  was  or  was  not  a pro- 
curer in  this  sense,  the  fact  remains  that  on  Tuesday  last— and 
April — he  was  in  company  with  Mr.  Wilde  at  the  latter’s  house  i* 
Tite  Street  and  that  he  has  not  been  produced  by  the  prosecution. 
Taylor  has  in  fact  been  the  right-hand  man  of  Mr.  Wilde  in  all  the 
orgies  in  which  artists  and  valets  have  taken  part;  and,  if  oppor- 
tunity had  only  been  given  of  cross-examining  him,  it  might  have 
been  possible  to  get  from  him  at  least  something  as  to  what  was 
going  on  at  Fitztoy  Square  on  the  night  of  the  raid  there  la« 
year.  Taylor  is  really  the  pivot  of  the  case  for  the  simple  reaso* 
that  when  the  various  witnesses  for  the  defence  are  called  and 
examined— as  unfortunately  will  be  necessary— as  to  the  practices 
of  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde,  it  will  be  found  that  it  was  Taylor  who 
introduced  the  young  men  to  the  prosecutor.  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  has 
undertaken  to  prove  enough  to  send  Lord  Queensberry  to  gaol  and 
to  brand  him  as  a criminal,  but  it  is  remarkable  that  me  only 
witness  who  could  have  Supported  Mr.  Wilde’s  asseverance  of 
innocence  has  not  been  called.  Yet  Taylor  is  sdll  a friend  of  Mr. 
Wilde,  and  nothing,  said  the  prosecutor,  has  happened  to  interrupt 
their  friendship. 

It  will  be  painful  to  be  compelled  to  ask  the  various  witnesses 
165 


Oscar  Wilde, 


Mr.  Bdwitrd  Ctraon 

that  will  be  called  to  describe  the  manner  in  which  Mr.  Wilde 
has  acted  towards  them;  hut,  before  the  case  is  ended,  you  will  be 
obliged  to  hear  a good  deal  more  of  the  extraordinary  den  which 
Taylor  kept  in  Little  College  Street.  Therefore,  it  is  above  all 
things  necessary,  when  we  have  so  much  proved  by  his  own 
admissions,  that  Mr.  Wilde  should  bring  any  witness  he  can  to 
bear  out  his  own  explanations.  Wc  have  heard  a great  deal  of 
the  gentleman  whose  name  was  written  down.  On  each  occasion 
when  it  was  convenient  to  introduce  somebody,  this  was  the  name 
which  Mr.  Wilde  gave  because  he  was  out  of  the  country.  But 
Taylor  is  still  in  the  country.  Why  has  he  not  been  called? 

Let  us  contrast  the  position  which  Mr.  Wilde  took  up  in  cross- 
examination  as  to  his  books,  which  are  for  the  select  and  not  for 
the  ordinary  individual,  with  die  position  he  assumed  as  to  the 
young  men  to  whom  he  was  introduced  and  those  he  picked  up 
for  himself.  His  books  were  written  by  an  artist  for  artists;  his 
words  were  not  for  Philistines  or  illiterates.  Contrast  that  with  the 
way  in  which  Mr.  Wilde  chose  his  companions!  He  took  up  with 
Charles  Parker,  a gentleman’s  servant,  whose  brother  was  a gentle- 
man’s servant;  with  young  Alphonse  Conway,  who  sold  paiiers  on 
the  pier  at  Worthing;  and  with  Scarfe,  also  a gentleman’s  servant. 
Then  his  excuse  was  no  longer  tliat  he  was  dwelling  in  regions  of 
art  but  that  he  had  such  a noble,  such  a democratic  soul  (Laughter.), 
that  he  drew  no  social  distinctions,  and  that  it  was  quite  as  much 
pleasure  to  have  the  sweeping  boy  from  the  streets  to  lunch  or 
^ne  with  him  as  the  greatest  IhStateur  or  artist. 

In  my  judgment,  if  the  case  had  rested  on  Mr.  Wilde’s  litera- 
ture alone,  Lord  Queensberry  would  have  been  absolutely  justified 
in  the  course  he  has  taken.  Lord  Queensberry  has  undertaken  to 
prove  that  Mr.  Wilde  has  been  "posing”  as  guilty  of  certain  vices. 
Mr.  Wilde  never  complained  of  the  immorality  of  the  story  "The 
Priest  and  the  Acolyte”  which  appeared  in  The  Chameleon.  He 
knows  no  distinction,  in  fact,  between  a moral  and  an  immoral 
book.  Nor  does  he  care  whether  the  article  is  in  its  very  terms 
blasphemous.  All  that  Mr.  Wide  says  is  that  he  did  not  approve 
of  the  story  from  a literary  point  of  view.  What  is  that  story? 
It  is  a story  of  the  love  of  a priest  for  the  acolyte  who  attended  him 
at  Mass.  Exactly  the  same  idea  that  runs  through  the  two  letters 
to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  runs  through  that  story,  and  also  through 
The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray.  When  the  boy  was  discovered  in  the 
priest’s  bed,  the  priest  made  exactly  the  same  defence  as  Mr.  Wilde 
has  made— that  the  world  does  not  understand  the  beauty  of  this 
love.  The  same  idea  runs  through  these  two  letters  which  Mr. 

i66 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Mr.  Edirard  Carson 

Wilde  has  called  beautilul,  but  which  I call  an  abominable  piece  of 
disgusting  immorality. 

Moreover,  there  is  in  this  same  Chameleon  a poem  which  shows 
some  justification  for  the  frightful  anticipations  which  Lord  Queens- 
berry  entertained  for  his  son.  The  poem  was  written  by  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas  and  was  seen  by  Mr.  Wilde  before  its  publicadon. 
Is  it  not  a terrible  thing  that  a young  man  on  the  threshold  of  life, 
who  has  for  several  years  been  dominated  by  Oscar  Wilde  and  has 
been  “adored  and  loved"  by  Oscar  Wilde,  as  the  two  letters  prove, 
should  thus  show  the  tendency  of  his  mind  upon  this  frightful 
subject?  What  would  be  the  horror  of  any  man  whose  son  wrote 
such  a poem? 

Passing  now  to  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray,  it  is  the  tale  of  a 
beautiful  young  man  who,  by  the  conversation  of  one  who  has  great 
literary  power  and  ability  to  speak  in  epigrams— just  as  Mr.  Wilde 
has— and  who,  by  reading  of  exactly  the  same  kind  as  that  in 
"Phrases  and  Philosophies  for  the  Use  of  the  Young,"  has  his  eyes 
opened  to  what  they  are  pleased  to  call  the  “delights  of  the  world.” 
If  Dorian  Gray  is  a book  which  it  can  be  conclusively  proved 
advocates  the  vice  imputed  to  Mr.  Wilde,  what  answer,  then,  is 
there  to  Lord  Queensberry’s  plea  of  justification? 

[Counsel  then  read  several  long  extracts  from  the  book  with  a 
view  to  supporting  his  contention  as  to  its  tendency.] 

The  turning  of  one  of  Wilde’s  letters  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
into  a sonnet  was  a very  thinly  veiled  attempt  to  get  rid  of  the 
dbaracter  of  that  letter.  A more  thinly  veiled  attempt  to  cover  its 
real  nature  has  never  been  made  in  a Court  of  Justice.  I have  some 
difficulty  in  understanding  why  my  learned  friend.  Sir  Edward 
Clarke,  has  referred  to  that  letter  at  all.  Perhaps  he  thought  the 
defence  had  the  letter,  and  that  it  would  be  better  to  give  an 
explanation  of  it;  but  if  that  is  so,  it  is  futile  because,  for  the 
letter  which  the  defence  did  produce,  my  learned  friend  has  no 
explanation. 

My  learned  friend  has  referred  to  "a  man  named  Wood”  as 
bring  supposed  to  have  taken  out  of  the  pocket  of  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  correspondence  which  had  passed  between  him  and  Wilde. 
But  who  is  Wood?  Why,  he  too  is  "Fred,"  one  of  Wilde’s  bosom 
companions,  a friend  of  Taylor,  one  of  ihe  Little  College  Street 
loti  What,  then,  was  the  case  of  the  strained  relations  between 
Wilde  and  Wood?  Why  did  Wilde  give  Wood  When  I state 
that,  previous  to  the  possession  of  those  letters,  Wood  had  been 
carrying  on  certain  practices  with  Wilde,  you  will  have  the  key  to 
167 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  Gdward  Canon 

the  whole  situation.  That  is  one  reason  why  Wilde  would  be 
anxious  to  get  the  letters  at  an?  cost,  and  when  Wood  came  to 
levy  blackmail,  dten  Mr,  Wilde  became  very  anxious  that  the  man 
should  leave  the  country.  So  he  paid  his  passage  and,  after  a fare- 
well luncheon,  he  shipped  him  oft  to  New  York  and,  I suppose, 
hoped  that  he  would  never  see  him  again.  (Counsd  paused  a 
moment.)  But,  gentlemen,  as  a matter  of  fact,  Wood  is  here  and 
will  be  examined  before  you.  (Sensation.) 

The  name  of  Mr.  Bcerbohm  Tree  has  been  introduced  into  the 
case  in  respect  to  what  I may  call  the  sonnetized  letter.  This  morn- 
ing I received  a cablegram  from  Mr.  Tree  mentioning  the  fact  that 
the  association  of  his  name  with  this  case  has  already  been  pub- 
lished in  America,  and  Mr.  Tree  has  given  an  explanation  sub- 
stantially the  same  as  Mr.  Wilde  has  given.  In  my  submission  the 
way  Mr,  Tree  has  acted  in  the  case  was  perfectly  right  when  be 
received  a copy  of  the  letter. 

Sir  EnwARn  Ct-ARKS — I quite  agree. 

Mr.  Justice  CotUNs—There  is  not  the  slighteK  doubt  for  any 
suggestion  .igainst  Mr.  Bcerbohm  Tree.  He  acted  in  the  matter 
with  the  most  perfect  propriety. 

Mr,  Carson-— Thank  you,  my  lord.  My  view  is  that  his  action 
was  exactly  what  it  ought  to  have  been, 

(Continuing  his  speech) — I may  say  that  Mr.  Tree  sent  for  Mr. 
Wilde  and  gave  him  a copy  of  the  letter.  Then  Wilde  began  t» 
think,  when  the  letter  was  discovered,  how  he  should  get  out  of 
it.  A short  time  afterwards  Allen,  the  blackmailer,  called  and  had 
a most  extraordinary  conversation  with  Wilde,  who  then  said  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  publish  the  letter  as  a sonnet.  When 
did  he  make  up  his  mind?  Not  when  he  sent  it  to  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas,  for  he  did  not  ask  him  to  preserve  it.  Gendemen,  I envy 
your  credulity,  if  you  believe  that  that  abominable  composition  was 
written  as  a sonnet.  That  beautiful  sonnet  happened  to  be  dis- 
closed to  the  public.  The  other  three  were  destroyed.  That  one 
had  been  made  known  to  the  public  by  being  sent  to  Mr.  Tree,  and 
it  is  an  extraordinary  thing  that  it  was  the  only  letter  which  Mr. 
Whde  intended  to  turn  into  a sonnet  Personally  I can  see  n« 
difference  between  that  letter  and  the  letter  which  Mr.  Wild# 
wrote  from  the  Savoy  Hotel,  where  it  will  be  proved  that  he  has 
misbehaved. 

If* 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Mr,  Ednard  Caim 

[Qjunsel  re-read  the  letter  addressed  by  Wilde  to  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  from  the  Savoy,  begianing  “Dearest  of  all  boys,"  and 
continued]  : I am  not  here  to  say  anything  has  ever  happened 
between  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde,  God  forbid  1 
I But  everything  shows  that  the  young  man  was  in  a dangerous 
position  in  that  he  acquiesced  in  the  domination  of  Mr.  Wilde,  a 
man  of  great  ability  and  attainments.  Against  that  letter  written 
by  Mr.  Wilde  to  Lord  Queensberry’s  son.  Lord  Queensberry  pro- 
tested; and  I wish  to  know,  gentlemen,  are  you,  for  that  protest, 
going  to  send  Lord  Queensberry  to  gaol?  Lord  Queensberry  was 
determined  to  bring  the  matter  to  an  issue,  and  what  other  way 
was  open  to  him  than  that  which  he  had  chosen? 

B^ore  you  condemn  Lord  Queensberry,  I ask  you  to  read 
Wilde’s  letter  and  to  say  whether  the  gorge  of  any  father  ought 
not  to  rise.  I ask  you  to  bear  in  mind  that  Lord  Queensberry’s 
son  was  so  dominated  by  Wilde  that  he  threatened  to  shoot  his 
own  father.  Gentlemen,  Lord  Queensberry  did  what  he  has  done 
most  deliberately,  and  he  is  not  afraid  to  abide  by  the  issue  which 
he  has  raised  in  this  Court.  When  you  have  heard  Wood’s 
evidence,  the  whole  story  of  the  payment  of  those  sums  of  money 
by  Wilde,  and  the  mystery  of  those  lettas,  will  he  explained;  and 
the  suggestion  that  they  were  valuable  manuscripts,  which  Wilde 
desired  to  obtain,  will  be  dissipated.  As  a matter  of  fact,  Wilde 
knew  that  we  had  all  the  evidence,  and  he  preferred  to  ^icount 
it  as  far  .ns  possible  in  advance. 


169 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  Edword  Carson 

First  Trial.  Third  Day— Friday  5th  April,  1895. 

Opening;  Speech  for  the  Defence  (continued) 

Mr.  Carson — ^May  it  please  your  lordship,  gendemen  o£  the 
jury.  Yesterday,  when  it  came  to  the  usual  time  for  the  adjourn- 
ment of  the  Court,  I had  dealt  as  fully  as  1 intended  to  deal  with 
the  question  of  Mr.  Wilde’s  connexion  with  the  literature  and  the 
two  letters  which  have  been  produced  in  this  case,  and  I had  almost 
hoped  that  I had  suflficiently  demonstrated  to  you  upon  that  matter 
that  so  far  as  Lord  Queensberry  was  concerned,  he  was  absolutely 
justified  in  bringing  to  a climax  in  the  way  he  did  this  question  of 
the  connesdon  between  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  and  his  son.  I have 
unfortunately  a more  painful  part  of  the  case  now  to  approach.  It 
will  be  my  painful  duty  to  bring  before  you  young  men,  one  after 
another,  who  have  been  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Wilde,  to  tell  their 
unhappy  tiles.  It  is,  even  for  an  advocate,  a very  dismtcCul  task. 
Bui  let  those  who  are  inclined  to  condemn  these  young  men  for 
being  dominated,  misled  and  corrupted  by  Mr.  Wilde,  icmemhcr 
the  relative  position  of  the  two  parties.  Let  them  sa^  whether 
those  young  men  were  not  more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  I 
am  not  going  in  any  great  detail  now  to  criticize  Uic  eviikmce  of 
Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  in  relation  to  the  several  transactions  on  which  he 
was  cross-examined.  But  there  are  some  general  observations  applic- 
able to  all  the  cases  tliai  have  been  raised  against  Mr.  Wilde.  There 
is  in  point  of  fact  a startling  similarity  between  each  of  them  on  his 
own  admission  which  must  lead  you,  gentlemen,  to  draw  the  most 
painful  conclusions.  There  is  the  fact  that  in  no  one  of  these  cases 
were  these  parties  on  an  equality  in  any  way  with  Mr.  Wilde;  they 
are  none  of  them  educated  parties  with  whom  be  would  naturally 
associate,  and  they  are  not  his  equal  in  years.  But  on  the  other 
hand,  gendemen,  you  will  have  observed  a curious  similarity  in  the 
ages  of  each  of  them. 

Mr.  Wilde  has  said  that  there  is  something  beautiful,  something 
charming  about  youth  which  led  him  to  adopt  the  course  he  did. 
But  was  Mr.  Wilde  unable  to  find  more  suitable  companions,  at  the 
same  dme  young  and  charming,  in  the  ranks  of  his  own  class? 
Why,  the  thing  is  absurd.  His  excuse  in  the  witness-box  is  only  a 
travesty  of  the  facts.  Who  are  all  these  young  men— these  lads? 
There  is  Wood.  Of  his  history  Mr,  Wilde  has  told  us  that  he 
knows  nothing.  So  far  as  Mr.  Wilde  knew,  Wood  was  a clerk  out 
of  employment.  Who  is  Parker?  Mr.  Wilde  professed  the  same 
ignorance  as  to  that  youth.  Who  is  Scarfe?  Exactly  in  the  same 
way  Mr,  Wilde  knew  nothing  of  him.  He  only  knew  that  he  was 
out  of  employment.  Alphonse  Conway  he  picked  up  by  chance 
170 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Mr.  Edward  Carsoa 

on  the  beach  at  Worthing.  All  the  young  men  introduced  to  Mr. 
Wilde  were  of  something  like  eighteen  or  twenty  years  of  age.  The 
manner  of  their  introduction!  and  the  way  in  which  they  were  sub- 
sequently treated  with  money  and  presents,  all  lead  up  to  the  con- 
clusion that  there  was  something  unnatural  in  the  relations  between 
Mr.  Wilde  and  these  young  men.  Take  the  case  of  Parker.  How 
did  Mr.  Wilde  get  to  know  that  young  man?  Parker  was  a 
gentleman’s  servant  out  of  employment;  and  what  idea  could 
Taylor  have  had  of  Mr.  Wilde’s  tastes  when,  on  being  invited  by 
Wilde  to  ask  his  friends  to  a birthday  dinner,  he  introduced  as  his 
guests  a groom  and  a valet?  If  it  were  true,  as  undoubtedly  it  was, 
that  Taylor  first  met  the  two  young  men  in  a restaurant  in  Picca- 
dilly, why  did  he — ^if  he  knew  that  Mr.  Wilde  was  an  artistic  and 
literary  man,  and,  what  was  more,  an  upright  man — bring  the 
couple  to  dine  with  Mr.  Wilde?  There  can  be  no  explanation  of 
the  facts  but  this:  that  Taylor  was  a procurer  for  Wilde,  as  he 
undoubtedly  was. 

Parker  will  be  called  to  tell  his  unfortunate  story— his  story  that 
he  was  poor,  out  of  place,  and  that  he  fell  a victim  to  Mr.  Wilde. 
Upon  the  first  occasion  that  Mr.  Wilde  met  Parker,  the  valet,  he 
addressed  him  as  “Charlie,”  and  Charlie  addressed  Mr.  Wilde,  the 
distinguished  dramatist,  whose  name  at  the  time  was  being  men- 
tioned in  the  highest  circles  in  London  for  his  plays  and  his  literary 
work,  as  “Oscar.” 

I do  not  wish  to  say  anything  about  Mr.  Wilde’s  theories  as  to 
putting  an  end  to  social  distinctions.  A man  of  noble  and  generous 
instincts  might  be  able  to  break  down  all  social  barriers;  but  there 
is  one  thing  plain  in  this  case,  and  that  is  that  Mr.  Wilde’s  conduct 
to  the  young  men  introduced  to  him  was  not  instigated  by  any 
generous  instincts.  If  Mr.  Wilde  wanted  to  assist  Parker,  if  he  were 
interested  in  him,  if  he  wanted  to  find  him  employment,  was  it 
doing  the  lad  a good  turn  to  take  him  to  a restaurant  and  prime 
him  with  champagne  and  a good  dinner?  Was  that  the  work  of 
charity  and  sympathy  one  would  expect  a man  in  Mr,  Wilde’s 
position  to  extend  to  another  man  like  Parker?  All  the  ridiculous 
explanation  of  Mr.  Wilde  will  not  bear  one  moment’s  explana- 
tion as  to  what  he  was  doing  in  his  suite  of  rooms  at  the  Savoy. 
The  Savoy  is  a large  place,  with  plenty  of  room  to  move  about  in, 
and  there  is  no  doubt  that,  without  leading  people  to  suspect  any- 
thing, Mr.  Wilde  could  have  brought  young  men  into  his  rooms. 

Parker  will  tell  you  that  when  he  went  to  the  Savoy  with  Mr. 
Wilde  he  had  whiskies  and  sodas  and  iced  champagne— that  iced 
champagne  in  which  Mr.  Wilde  indulged  contrary  to  his  doctor’s 
orders.  Parker  will  furthermore  tdl  you  of  the  shocking  acts  he  was 
171 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  Edfraid  Carson 

led  by  Mr.  Wilde  to  perpetrate  on  that  occasion.  Mr.  Wilde  was 
asked  in  cross-examination,  "Is  it  not  true  that  there  has  been  a 
scandal  at  the  Savoy  Hotel.?”  “None  whatsoever,”  said  Mr.  Wilde. 
But  about  tlwt  very  extraordinary  thing  Lord  Queensberry  has 
referred  in  his  letter  dated  6th  July,  1894.  naight  have  been  that 
no  one  had  seen  Mr.  Wilde  turned  out  into  the  street,  but  such  kind 
of  gossip  could  not  have  arisen  without  going  abroad  and  being 
reported  in  the  circles  in  which  Lord  Queensberry  mixed.  The 
wonder  is  not  that  the  gossip  reached  Lord  Queensberry,  but  that, 
after  it  was  known,  this  man  Wilde  shpuld  have  been  tolerated  in 
society  in  London  tor  the  length  of  time  he  has.  Well,  I shall 
prove  that  Mr.  Wilde  brought  boys  into  the  Savoy  Hotel.  The 
masseur  of  that  establrihment— a most  respectable  man — and  otlier 
servants  will  be  called  to  prove  the  character  of  Mr.  Wilde’s  reladons 
with  his  visitors.  Is  there  any  wonder  that  reports  of  a scandal  at 
the  Savoy  should  have  reached  Lord  Queensberry,  whose  son  was 
living  a portion  of  the  time  at  the  hotel? 

Mr.  Wilde  has  not  ventured  to  deny  that  Parker  has  dined 
with  him,  lias  been  in  his  company,  and  has  lunched  with  him  at  his 
rooms  and  at  tlic  Savoy,  Mr,  Wilde,  seeing  the  importance  of  these 
facts,  has  made  a dean  breast  of  it.  "Oh,  yes,”  he  said,  "titcy  were 
perfectly  innocent,  nay,  more,  they  were  generous  actions  on  my 
part.”  It  is  remarkable  that  Mr.  Wilde  has  given  no  account  as 
to  what  he  was  doing  in  those  rooms  at  the  S.nvoy.  Parker  will 
tell  you  wh.it  happened  on  arriving  there.  He  has  since  enlisted 
in  the  army  and  bears  a good  character.  Mr.  Wilde  himself  said 
that  Parker  is  a rcspecmble  man.  Parker  will  reluctantly  present 
himself  to  tell  you  his  story. 

As  to  the  boy  Conway,  Conway  was  not  procured  by  Taylor — 
he  wa.s  procured  by  Mr.  Wilde  himself.  Has  there  ever  been  con- 
fessed in  a Court  of  Justice  a more  audacious  story  than  that  confessed 
to  by  Mr.  Wilde,  in  relation  to  Conway?  He  met  the  boy,  he  said, 
on  die  beach  at  Worthing.  He  knew  nothing  whatsoever  about  him, 
excepting  that  he  assisted  in  launching  the  boats.  Conway’s  real 
history  is  that  he  sold  newspapers  at  Worthing  at  the  kiosk  on 
the  pier.  What  a flippant  answer  it  was  that  Mr.  Wilde  gave  to 
the  question,  "Did  you  know  that  Conway  sold  newspapers?” 
when  he  replied,  “I  did  not  know  chat  he  had  previous  connexion 
with  literature”!  Perhaps,  in  that,  Mr.  Wilde  thought  he  was 
clever  at  repartee,  and  was  scoring  ofi  counsel  whose  duty  it  was 
to  cross-examine  him.  But  here  are  the  facts,  After  helping  Mr. 
Wilde  to  get  out  his  boat,  an  intimacy  sprang  up  between  them,  and 
■ wirlun  a day  or  two  Conway  was  taken  by  Mr.  Wilde  to  thr  house 
he  was  occupying,  If  the  evidence  of  Mr,  Wilde  was  true— and  I 
172 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Mr.  Edward  Caison 

sincerely  hope  it  is  not— Conway  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Wilde  and 
her  two  sons,  aged  nine  and  ten.  Now,  it  is  clear  that  Mr.  Wilde 
could  not  take  about  the  boy  Conway  in  the  condition  he  found 
him  in.  So  what  did  he  do?  And  it  is  here  that  the  disgraceful 
audacity  of  the  man  comes  in.  Mr.  Wilde  procured  the  boy  a suit 
of  clothes  to  dress  him  up  like  a gentleman’s  son,  put  some  public 
school  colours  upon  his  hat,  and  generally  made  him  look  like  a lad 
At  and  proper  to  associate  with  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde.  The  whole  thing 
in  its  audacity  is  almost  past  belief.  Why,  if  the  defence  had  proved 
Ac  fact,  instead  of  getting  it  from  Ae  mouA  of  the  prosecutor, 
you  would  have  said  it  was  almost  incredible.  But  why  did  Mr. 
Wilde  dress  up  Conway?  If  Mr.  Wilde  were  really  anxious  to  assist 
Conway,  Ae  very  worst  Aing  he  could  have  done  was  to  take  Ae 
lad  out  of  his  proper  sphere,  to  begin  by  giving  him  Aampagne 
luncheons,  taking  him  to  his  hotel,  and  treating  him  in  a manner 
in  which  Ae  boy  could  never  in  Ac  future  expect  to  live. 

Withdrawal  of  the  Prosecution. 

[At  this  point  Sir  Edwa*d  Ciarke,  who  had  previously  left  Ae 
Court  wiA  Mr.  Mathews,  returned  and  was  seen  to  pluck  Mr. 
Carsoh  by  the  gown.  Sir  Edwasd  Clarke  Aen  interposed  and 
asked  leave  of  Ae  judge  to  consult  wiA  his  learned  friend.  After 
a few  moments’  whispered  conversation  Mr.  Carson  resumed  his 
scat.] 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — ^May  I claim  your  lordship’s  indulgence 
while  I interpose  to  make  a statement,  whiA,  of  course  is  made 
under  a feeling  of  very  great  responsibility? 

My  learned  friend,  Mr.  Carson,  yesterday  addressed  the  jury 
upon  Ae  question  of  Ae  literature  involved  in  Ais  case,  and  upon 
Ae  inferences  to  be  drawn  from  the  admissions  made  wiA  regard 
to  letters  written  by  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde;  and  my  friend  began  his 
address  this  morning  by  saying  Aat  he  hoped  Aat  yesterday  he  had 
said  enough  in  dealing  wiA  Aose  topics  to  induce  Ae  jury  to 
relieve  him  from  the  necessity  of  dealing  in  detail  with  the  oAer 
issues  in  Ais  case.  I think  it  must  have  been  present  to  your  lord- 
Aip’s  mind  that  Aose  who  represent  Mr.  Wilde  in  this  case  have 
before  Aem  a very  terrAlc  anxiety.  They  cannot  conceal  from 
Aemselvcs  Aat  Ae  judgment  Aat  might  be  formed  on  that  litera- 
tore,  and  upon  the  conduct  whiA  has  been  admitted,  might  not 
improbably  induce  the  jury  to  say  Aat  Lord  Queensberry  in  using 
Ae  word  “posing”  was  using  a word  for  which  Acre  was  sufficient 
justification  to  entitie  the  faAer,  who  used  Aose  words  imder  these 

173 


Oscar  Wilde. 


sir  £dwird  Clukc 

drcumstances,  to  the  utmost  consideration  and  to  be  relieved  of  a 
criminal  charge  in  respect  of  his  statement.  And  with  this  in  our 
clear  view,  I and  my  learned  friends  associated  with  me  in  this 
matter  had  to  look  forward  to  this— that  a verdict  given  in  favour 
of  defendant  upon  that  part  of  the  case  might  be  interpreted  outside 
as  a conclusive  finding  with  regard  to  all  parts  of  the  case.  And 
the  position  in  which  we  stood  was  this : that,  without  expecting  a 
verier  in  this  case,  we  should  be  going  through,  day  after  day,  an 
investigation  of  matters  of  the  most  appalling  character. 

Under  these  circumstances  I hope  your  lordship  will  think  I am 
taking  the  light  course,  which  1 take  after  communicating  with 
Mr.  Oscar  Wilde.  That  is  to  say  that,  having  regard  to  what  has 
been  referred  to  by  my  learned  friend  in  respect  of  the  matters 
connected  with  the  literature  and  the  letters,  I feel  we  could  not 
resist  a verdict  of  not  guilty  in  this  case~not  guilty  having  reference 
to  the  word  "posing.”  Under  these  circumstances  I hope  you  will 
think  I am  not  going  beyond  the  bounds  of  my  duty,  and  that  I am 
doing  something  to  save,  to  prevent,  what  would  be  a most  horrible 
task,  however  it  might  close,  if  I now  interpose  and  say  on  behalf 
of  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  that  I would  ask  to  withdraw  from  the 
prosecution.  And  if  you  do  not  think  that  at  this  time  of  the 
case,  and  after  what  has  taken  place— if  you  do  not  think  I ought 
to  be  allowed  to  do  that  on  his  behalf,  I am  prepared  to  submit 
to  a verdict  of  not  guilty,  having  reference,  if  to  any  part  of  the 
particulars  at  all,  to  that  part  of  the  particulars  connected  with  the 
publication  of  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray  and  the  publication  of 
The  Chameleon.  I timst  that  this  may  make  an  end  of  the  case. 

Mr.  Carson— I do  not  know  that  I have  any  right  whatever  to 
interfere  in  any  way  with  this  application  my  learned  friend  has 
made.  I can  only  say,  as  far  as  Lord  Queensberry  is  concerned, 
that  if  there  is  a plea  of  not  guilty,  a plea  which  involves  that  he 
has  succeeded  in  his  plea  of  justification,  I am  quite  satisfied.  Of 
course,  my  learned  friend  will  admit  that  we  must  succeed  upon 
the  plea  in  the  manner  in  which  he  has  stated;  and  that  being  so, 
it  rests  entirely  with  your  lordship  as  to  whether  the  course  sug- 
gested by  my  learned  friend  is  to  be  taken. 

Mr.  fusTicE  CoLUNs— In  as  much  as  the  prosecutor  in  this  case  is 
prepared  to  acquiesce  in  a verdict  of  not  guilty  against  the  accused,  I 
do  not  think  it  is  any  part  of  the  function  of  the  judge  or  of  the 
jury  to  insist  on  going  through  prurient  details  which  can  have  no 
bearing  upon  a matter  already  concluded  by  the  assent  of  the 
prosecutor  to  an  adverse  verdict.  But  as  to  the  jury  putting  any 

m 


Withdrawal  of  the  Prosecution. 

Mr,  Instlee  CoIUtia 

limitation  upon  the  verdict  of  justification  of  the  charge,  which  is 
"posing  as  a sodomite”— if  that  is  justified,  it  is  justified;  if  it  is  not, 
it  is  not.  And  the  verdict  of  the  jury  must  be  "Guilty”  or  “Not 
Guilty.”  There  can  be  no  terms  and  no  limitations.  The  verdia 
must  be  “Guilty”  or  “Not  Guilty.”  I understand  hkn  to  assent  to 
a verdict  of  Not  Guilty,  and  of  course  the  jury  will  return  that. 

Mr.  Carson— Of  course,  the  verdict  will  be  that  the  plea  of 
justification  is  proved,  and  that  the  words  were  published  for  the 
public  benefit. 

Sir  Edward  Curke— The  verdict  is  “Not  Guilty.” 

Mr.  Justice  Coluns— The  verdict  is  "Not  Guilty,”  but  it  is 
arrived  at  by  that  process.  I shall  have  to  tell  the  jury  that  jusuficS' 
tion  was  proved;  and  that  it  was  true  in  substance  and  in  fact  that 
the  prosecutor  had  “posed”  as  a sodomite.  I shall  also  have  to  tell 
them  that  they  will  have  to  find  that  the  statement  was  published 
in  such  a manner  as  to  be  for  the  public  benefit.  If  they  find  on 
these  two  points,  the  verdict  will  be  “Not  Guilty." 

(To  the  Jury)— Your  verdict  will  be  “Not  Guilty”;  but  there  are 
other  matters  which  have  to  be  determined  with  reference  to  the 
specific  finding  of  complete  justification,  and,  as  I told  you,  that 
involves  that  the  statement  is  true  in  fact  and  substance,  and  that 
the  publication  is  for  the  public  benefit.  These  arc  the  facts  on 
which  you  will  have  to  find,  and  if  you  find  them  in  favour  of  the 
defendant,  your  verdict  will  be  “Not  Guilty.”  You  will  have  to 
say  whether  you  find  complete  justification  has  been  proved. 


Verdict. 

[The  Jury  consulted  together  for  a few  moments.] 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns — Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  do  you  find  the 
plea  of  justification  has  been  proved  or  not? 

The  Foreman  of  the  Jury— Yes. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns- And  do  you  find  defendant  not 
guilty? 


The  Foreman— Yes.  (Applause.) 

175 


Oscar  Wilde, 


The  Clerk  of  Arraigns— And  that  is  the  verdict  of  you  all? 

The  Foreman— Ye*. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns — ^And  also  that  it  was  published  for 
the  public  benefit? 

■nse  Foreman— Yes. 

Mr.  Carson — Of  course,  the  costs  of  the  defence  will  follow. 

Mr.  Justice  Collins — Yes. 

Mr.  C.  F.  Gill — And  Lord  Queensberry  may  be  discharged. 

Mr.  Justice  Collins— Oh,  certainly. 

Lord  Qubensbekrt  at  once  stepped  out  of  the  dock  and  joined 
his  solicitor  in  the  well  of  tlic  Court.  His  formal  discharge,  which 
immediately  followed,  was  aanmpanied  by  renewed  applause  from 
the  spectators  in  the  public  galleries. 


The  Court  adjourned. 


Ml.  JUSTICE  HFNN  COLLINS 
By  “Quiz” 


WILUE  MATIIEWS 
By  “Spy” 


THE  TRIAL 

WITHIN  THE 

CENTRAL  CRIMINAL  COURT, 
OLD  BAILEY,  LONDON 
FRIDAY,  26th  APRIL,  1895. 


Judge— 

THE  HON.  MR.  JUSTICE  CHARLES. 


Counsel  for  the  Crown — 

Me.  Chakies  Feedesick  Gill. 

Me.  Horace  Avoey. 

Me.  Aet.hiw  Oni> 

(Instructed  by  the  Director  of  Public  Prosecutions.) 


Counsel  for  the  Prisoner,  Oscar  Wilde — 

Sir  Edward  Clarke,  Q.C.,  M.P. 

Me.  Charles  Wilub  Mathewr. 

Me.  Travers  Humphreys. 

(biitructed  by  Messrs.  C.  O,  Humphreys,  Son,  St  Ketshaw) 


Counsel  for  the  Prisoner,  Alfred  Taylor— 

Mr.  John  Peter  Grain. 

Me.  William  Clarke  Hall. 

(Instructed  by  Messrs.  Arthur  Newton  St  Co.) 


Counsel  for  Sidney  Mavor^ 

Mr.  Leonard  Kershaw. 

I’Instructed  by  Messrs.  C.  O.  Humphreys,  Son,  Sc  Kershaw) 

177 


Indictment,  Demurrer  and  Pleas. 


Second  Trial.  First  Day— Friday,  26th  April,  1895, 
Indictment,  Demurrer  and  Pleas. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns  read  the  following  indictment: — 

Central  Criminal  Court.  To  wit : The  Jurors  for  our  Lady  the 
Queen  upon  their  oath  present  that— 

I.  First  Count. 

OsoAR  Fingal  OTlahertie  Wills  Wilde  on  the  fourteenth  day 
of  March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
ninety-three  at  the  Parish  of  Saint  John  the  Bapdst  Savoy  in  the 
County  of  London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court 
being  a male  person  unlawfully  did  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency 
with  another  male  person  to  wit  one  Charles  Parker  against  the 
form  of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the 
peace  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity.^ 

3.  Second  Count. 

And  the  Jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  a&resaid  do  further 
present  that  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  said  fourteenth  day  of  March 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety- 
three  at  the  Parish  aforesaid  in  the  County  of  London  and  within 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  unlawfully  did  procure  the 
commission  by  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  being 
a male  person  of  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male  person 
to  wit  the  said  Charles  Parker  against  the  form  of  the  stamte  in 
such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of  our  said 
Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

3.  Third  Count. 

And  the  Jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  said  fourteenth  day  of 
March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
ninety-three  at  the  Parish  aforesaid  in  the  County  of  London  and 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  unlawfully  did  procure 

^ Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act,  i6^  & 49  Viet,  c.  69),  aec.  ii : "Any  male 

person  who,  in  public  or  in  private,  commits,  or  is  a party  to  the  commission  of, 
or  procures,  or  attempts  to  procure  the  commission  by  any  male  person  of,  any  act 
of  gross  indecency  snail  be  guilty  of  mlsdetnesnour,  and  being  convicted  shall  be 
Ikble  at  the  disaction  of  the  Court  to  be  imprisoned  for  any  term  not  exceeding 
two  years,  with  or  without  hard  labour.” 

i?9 


Oscar  Wilde. 


the  commission  by  the  said  Charles  Parker  being  a male  person 
of  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit  the 
said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flaherue  Wills  Wilde  against  the  form  of  the 
stariite  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of 
our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

4.  Fourth  CoBBt. 

And  the  Jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flaherde  Wills  Wilde  on  the 
twenty-first  day  of  March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  at  the  Parish  aforesaid  in  the  County 
of  London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  being  a 
male  person  unlawfully  did  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency  with 
another  male  person,  to  wit  the  said  Charles  Parker  against  the  form 
of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the 
peace  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

5.  Fifth  Count, 

And  die  Jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flaherde  Wills  Wilde  on  the 
fifteenth  day  of  October  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety-three  at  tlie  Parish  of  St.  James  Westminster 
in  the  County  of  London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said 
Court  being  a male  person  unlawfully  did  commit  acts  of  gross 
indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit  the  said  Charles  Parker 
against  the  form  of  die  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and 
against  the  peace  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and 
dignity. 

6.  Sixth  Count. 

And  the  Jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flabertie  Wills  Wilde  on  the 
twenty-second  day  of  October  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
ninety-three  at  die  Parish  last  aforesaid  in  the  County  of  London 
and  within  the  jurisdiaion  of  this  Court  being  a male  person 
unlawfully  did  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male 
person  to  wit  the  said  Charles  Parker  against  the  form  of  the 
statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of 
our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

7.  Seventh  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  afore^d  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and 
180 


Indictment,  Demurrer  and  Pleas. 


Alfred  Taylor  on  the  first  day  o£  February  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  and  on  divers  days 
and  times  between  the  said  day  and  the  thirty-first  day  of  Mardi 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety- 
three  at  the  Parish  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  Savoy  in  the  County  of 
London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  this  Court  unlawfully  did 
conspire  combine  confederate  and  agree  together  unlawfully  to 
procure  the  commission  by  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie 
Wills  Wilde  of  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male  person 
to  wit  the  said  Charles  Parker  against  the  form  of  the  statute  in 
such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of  our  said 
Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

8.  '^ghth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  twentieth  day  of 
September  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
ninety-three  at  the  Parish  of  Chelsea  in  the  County  of  London  and 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  being  a male  person 
unlawfully  did  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male 
person  to  wit  the  said  Charles  Parker  against  the  form  of  the  statute 
in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of  our  said 
Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

9.  Ninth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  tenth  day  of  April  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three 
at  the  Parish  of  St.  Margaret’s  Westminster  in  the  County  of 
London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  being  a male 
person  unlawfully  did  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another 
male  person  to  wit  the  said  William  Parker  against  the  form  of  the 
stamte  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of 
our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 


10.  Te«rA  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and 
the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  eighteenth  day  of  November  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-two  at 
the  Parish  of  St.  Ann’s  Soho  Westminster  in  the  County  of  London 

i8t 


Oscar  Wilde. 


and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  did  attempt  to  procure 
the  commission  by  a certain  male  person  to  wit  Frederick  Atkins  of 
acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit  the  said 
Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  against  die  form  of  the 
statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of 
our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity, 

11.  Eleventh  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Frederick  Atkins  and  the  said  Alfred  Taylor 
on  the  eighteenth  day  of  November  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-two  at  the  Parish  of  St.  Ann’s 
Soho  Westminster  in  the  County  of  London  and  within  the  juris- 
diction of  the  said  Court  did  attempt  to  procure  the  commission  by 
a certain  male  person  to  wit  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertic  Wills  Wilde 
of  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit  the  said 
Frederick  Atkins  against  the  form  of  tlic  statute  in  such  case  made 
and  provided  and  agtiinst  the  {leace  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen 
her  Crown  and  dignity. 

12.  Twelfth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  first  day  of  November 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety- 
two  and  on  divers  days  and  hours  between  the  said  day  and  the 
thirtieth  day  of  November  in  the  said  year  in  the  Parish  of  St. 
Ann’s  Soho  aforesaid  unlawfully  did  conspire  combine  confederate 
and  agree  together  unlawfully  to  procure  the  commission  by  him 
the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  of  acts  of  gross 
indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit  the  said  Charles  Parker 
against  the  form  of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and 
against  the  peace  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and 
dignity. 

13.  Thirteenth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  on  the 
tenth  day  of  January  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety  three  in  the  Parish  of  Chelsea  in  the  County 
of  London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  being  a 
male  person  unlawfully  did  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency  with 


Indictment,  Demurrer  and  Pleas. 


another  male  person  to  wit  one  Alfred  Wood  against  the  form  of 
the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace 
of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity, 

14.  Fourteenth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  tenth  day  of  January  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three 
in  the  Parish  of  Chelsea  aforesaid  in  the  County  of  London  and 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  unlawfully  did  procure 
the  commission  by  a certain  male  person  to  wit  the  said  Oscar 
Fingal  O'Flaherde  Wills  Wilde  of  acts  of  gross  indecency  with 
another  male  person  to  wit  the  said  Alfred  Wood  against  the  form 
of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace 
of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

15.  Fifteenth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  tenth  day  of  January  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thouand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three 
in  the  Parish  of  Chelsea  aforesaid  in  the  County  of  London  and 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  unlawfully  did  procure 
the  commission  by  a certain  male  person  to  wit  the  said  Alfred 
Taylor  of  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit 
the  said  Alfred  Wood  against  the  form  of  the  statute  in  such  case 
made  and  provided  and  again*  the  peace  of  our  said  Lady  the 
Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

16.  Sixteenth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do 
further  present  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  first  day 
of  January  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  ninety-three  at  the  Parish  of  St.  Margaret’s  Westnunster  in  the 
County  of  London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court 
being  a male  person  unlawfully  did  attempt  to  procure  the  com- 
mission by  the  said  Alfred  Wood  a male  person  of  acts  of  gross 
indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit  the  said  Alfred  Taylor 
against  me  form  of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and 
against  the  peace  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and 
dignity. 

183 


Oscar  Wilde. 


17.  Stventeenth  Count, 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  Uieir  oath  afores.iid  do  further 
present  that  die  said  Oscar  Fmgal  O’Flahcrtic  Wills  Wilde  and  the 
said  Allred  Taylor  on  the  first  day  of  January  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety-three  and  on  divers  other  days  and  dmes 
between  the  said  day  and  the  twenty-first  day  of  January  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  at 
the  Parish  of  Chelsea  in  the  County  of  London  and  within  the 
jurisdicdon  of  this  Court  unlawtuUy  did  conspire  combine  con- 
federate and  agree  together  unlawfully  to  procure  the  commission 
by  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertic  Wills  Wilde  of  acts  of 
gross  indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit  the  said  Alfred 
Wood  against  the  form  of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  pro- 
vided and  against  the  peace  of  our  said  Lady  die  Queen  her  Crown 
and  dignity, 

18.  Eighteenth  Count, 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  mxindieir  oath  aforesaid  do  further  pre- 
sent that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flalicrlie  WilLs  Wilde  on  the  ninth 
day  of  March  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  .at  the 
Parish  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  Savoy  in  the  County  of  London  and 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  being  a male  person  unlaw- 
fully did  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male  person 
to  the  jurors  aforesaid  unknown  against  the  form  of  the  statute 
in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of  our 
said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

ig.  Nineteenth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do 
further  present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahcrtie  Wills 
Wilde  on  the  twentieth  day  of  March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  at  the  Parish  aforesaid 
and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  being  a male  person 
unlawfully  did  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male 
person  to  the  jurors  aforesaid  unknown  against  the  form  of  the 
statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of 
our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

20.  Twentieth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  twentieth  day  of 
184 


Indictment,  Demurrer  and  Pleas. 


September  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
ninety-two  at  the  Parish  of  St.  Margaret’s  Westminster  in  the 
County  of  London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court 
unlawfully  did  attempt  to  procure  the  commission  by  a certain 
male  person  to  wit  Sidney  Arthur  Mavor  of  acts  of  gross  indecency 
with  another  male  person  to  wit  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  against  the 
form  of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against 
the  peace  of  out  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity, 

31.  Twenty-first  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and 
the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  first  day  of  September  and  on  divers 
other  days  and  times  between  the  said  day  and  the  thirty-first  day 
of  October  in  the  said  year  at  the  Parish  of  St.  James  Westminster 
and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  unlawfully  did  con- 
spire combine  confederate  and  agree  together  unlawfully  to  procure 
the  commission  by  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flahertie  Wills 
Wilde  of  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit 
the  said  Sidney  Arthur  hfavor  against  the  form  of  the  statute  in 
such  cases  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace  of  our  said 
Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

22,  Twenty-second  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  theb:  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and 
Alfred  Taylor  on  the  first  day  of  September  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-two  and  on  divers 
other  days  and  times  between  the  said  day  and  the  thirty-first  day 
of  March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
lunety-three  at  the  Parish  of  St.  Margaret’s  Westminster  in  the 
County  of  London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court 
unlawfully  did  conspire  combine  confederate  and  agree  together 
that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  being  a male 
person  should  unlawfully  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  divers 
other  male  persons  whom  he  the  said  Al&ed  Taylor  should  procure 
and  should  introduce  to  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills 
Wilde  for  the  said  purpose  and  that  in  pursuance  of  the  said  con- 
spiracy so  joined  as  aforesaid  he  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  did  on  the 
fifteenth  day  of  September  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  ninety-two  introduce  to  the  said  Oscar  Fingal 
O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  one  Sidney  Arthur  Mavor  for  the  purposes 


Oscar  Wilde, 


o£  him  the  said  Oscar  Fitigal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  a male 
person  unlawfully  comtniuing  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  the  said 
Sydney  Artliur  Mavor  another  male  person  and  that  in  further  pur- 
suance of  the  said  conspiracy  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  did  on  the 
fourteenth  day  of  March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  introduce  to  the  said  Oscar  Fingal 
O’Flaherrie  Wills  Wilde  one  Charles  Parker  and  one  William 
Parker  and  tliat  he  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde 
afterwards  to  wit  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  March  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  in  pursuance  of 
the  said  conspiracy  being  a male  person  unlawfully  did  commit 
acts  of  gross  indecency  with  the  said  Charles  Parker  another  male 
person  and  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  on  the  eighteenth  day  of 
November  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  ninety-two  in  pursuance  of  the  said  conspiracy  did  introduce 
to  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  one  Frederick 
Atkins  and  that  he  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  in  pursuance  of  the  said 
conspiracy  did  on  the  tenth  day  of  January  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  unlawfully  prociue 
the  commission  by  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’h'liihcitie  Wills 
Wilde  of  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit 
one  Allred  Wood  against  the  form  of  the  statute  in  such  case  nuide 
and  provided  and  against  the  peicc  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen 
her  Crown  and  dignity. 

23.  Twenty-third  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  die  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and 
Alfred  Taylor  on  the  first  day  of  September  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-two  and  on  divers 
other  days  and  times  between  the  said  day  and  the  finding  of  this 
indictment  at  the  Parish  of  St.  Margaret’s  Westminster  in  the 
County  of  London  and  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court 
unlawfully  did  conspire  combine  confederate  and  agree  together 
that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  should  unlawfully  procure  the  com- 
mission of  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  the  said  Oscar  Fingal 
O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  being  a male  person  by  divers  other  male 
persons  whom  he  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  should  unlawfully  solicit 
and  innate  to  commit  the  said  acts  of  gross  indecency  against  the 
form  of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against 
the  peace  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

tS« 


Indictment,  Demurrer  and  Pleas. 


34.  Twenty-fourth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oath  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and 
Alfred  Taylor  on  the  first  day  of  September  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  at  the  Parish  of  St. 
Margaret’s  Westminster  in  the  County  of  London  and  within  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  said  Court  unlawfully  did  conspire  combine 
confederate  and  agree  together  that  the  said  Alfred  Taylor  should 
unlawfully  procure  the  commission  of  acts  of  gross  indecency  by 
the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  being  a male  person 
with  divers  other  male  persons  whom  he  the  said  Alfred  Taylor 
should  procure  for  the  said  unlawful  purpose  against  the  form  of 
the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided  and  against  the  peace 
of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her  Crown  and  dignity. 

25.  Twenty- fifth  Count. 

And  the  jurors  aforesaid  upon  their  oadi  aforesaid  do  further 
present  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  on  the 
twentieth  day  of  February  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  ninety-two  at  the  Parish  of  St.  fames  West- 
minster in  the  County  of  London  and  within  the  jurisdicdon  of  the 
said  Court  being  a male  person  unlawfully  did  commit  acts  of 
gross  indecency  with  another  male  person  to  wit  one  Edward 
Shelley  against  the  form  of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and 
provided  and  against  the  peace  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  her 
Crown  and  dignity. 

The  Cl£kk  0;  Akhaions  called  upon  the  accused  to  plead. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— My  lord,  I submit  that  the  prisoners  cannot 
be  called  upon  to  plead  to  an  indictment  which  contains  charges 
under  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act  and  also  to  charges  under 
the  statute  relating  to  conspiracy.  There  are  twenty-five  counts, 
and  in  respect  of  those  under  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act 
the  prisoners  are  competent  witnesses  on  their  own  behalf,  while 
in  respect  of  the  charges  of  conspiracy  they  are  not  competent 
witnesses  and  they  cannot  be  called.  Under  these  circumstances, 
in  my  submission,  they  cannot  be  put  to  answer  an  indictment 
containing  both  sets  of  charges,  because  if  they  are  called  as  witnesses 
they  will  have  to  give  evidence  on  charges  m respect  to  which  they 
are  not  competent  witnesses.  Just  as  a felony  and  a misdemeanour 
cannot  be  joined  in  an  indictment,  because  different  modes  of 
trial  prevail,  so  the  offences  charged  against  the  prisoner  cannot 


Oscar  Wilde. 


be  joined  in  one  indictment,  beatuse  these  offences  arc  jtot  consistent 
with  the  same  method  o£  trial.  I,  therefore,  demur  to  the  indict- 
ment as  containing  inconsistent  counts, 

Mr.  C.  F.  Gill— The  prisoners  are  charged  in  the  indictment 
with  committing  acts  under  section  ii  of  tire  Criminal  Law  Amend- 
ment Act  of  1885,  and  they  arc  clearly  available  witnesses  if  they 
desire  to  give  evidence  with  regard  to  those  charges.  The  only 
other  charges  in  the  indictment  are  charges  of  agreement  to  commit 
the  acts  w.hich  they  are  chiirged  with  committing  under  section  11  of 
the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act  of  1885.  To  give  evidence  on 
the  first  charges  will  undoubtedly  lay  them  open  to  cross-examina- 
tion on  both,  but  there  is  no  hardship  in  the  prisoners  being  indicted 
on  counts  so  nearly  similar.  (Counsel  cited  Reg,  v.  Owen,  (t88g) 
30  Q.B.D.  Sap,  in  support  of  his  argument.] 

Sir  FuwAiiD  CuiiKE— I was  not  discussing  hardships  but  a point 
of  law.  I Counsel  referred  to  Reg.  v.  Page,  (1837)  8 C.  & P.  lai, 
ns  the  only  case  bearing  on  the  jwint,  and  suhtnltletl  that  it  must 
guide  the  present  case,] 

Mr,  JusTicB  Charles— The  quesdon  of  substance  is  whether  the 
counts  can  be  lawfully  joined,  having  regard  to  the  present  state 
of  the  law,  in  the  same  indictment.  Unquesdonably,  prior  to  the 
passing  of  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act,  1885,  counts  tor 
substantive  mi.sdemeaaours  and  conspir.acies  to  commit  them  might 
be  lawfully  joined,  although,  if  justice  should  require  it,  the 
prosecution  might  be  called  upon  to  elect  on  whicli  counts  they 
would  proceed.  Can  they  lawfully  be  joined  now?  Flas  it  made 
any  difference  in  criminal  pleading  that  on  some  counts  the 
defendants  are  competent  witnesses  and  on  others  they  are  not? 
I am  unable  to  agree  with  Sir  Edward  Clarke’s  views.  I humbly 
think  that,  although  the  legislature  has  prescribed  that  with  refer- 
ence to  certain  offences  under  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act, 
1885,  defendants  are  competent  witnesses,  that  circumstance  has  not 
altered  the  general  law  with  reference  to  the  joinder  of  counts  for 
misdemeanour.  I feel  the  inconvenience  of  the  present  state  of 
things,  but  at  the  same  time  I do  not  think  that  the  fact  that  the 
prisoners  are  competent  witnesses  on  some  counts  and  are  not 
competent  witnesses  on  the  other  counts  authorises  me  to  say  that 
by  law  these  counts  cannot  be  joined  in  the  same  indictment. 

The  prisoners,  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and 
Altred  Waterhouse  Somerset  Taylor,  pleaded  not  guilty. 

188 


Indictment,  Demurrer  and  Pleas. 


Sir  Edward  Clarkr — I would  ask  your  lordship  in  the  exercise 
of  your  disaetion  to  put  the  prosecution  to  its  election  as  to  whether 
it  will  proceed  with  the  counts  of  conspiracy  or  with  the  other 
counts. 

Mr,  Gill— The  question  of  election  is  one  entirely  in  your 
lordship’s  discretion. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— That  is  impossible.  If  the  prisoners  are 
called  upon  to  give  evidence  at  all,  they  may  be  cross-examined  on 
the  whole  case,  but  they  will  be  entitled  to  give  evidence-in-chief 
only  on  the  counts  of  the  indictment  under  the  Criminal  Law 
Amendment  Act.  The  fact  that  the  dual  indictment  is  inconvenient 
docs  not  justify  me  in  requiring  the  prosecution  to  abandon  one 
section  of  it. 

Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

Mr.  Giu^May  it  please  you,  my  lord,  gentlemen  of  the  jury. 
I must  beg  you  to  dismiss  from  your  minds  anything  you  may  have 
heard  or  read  about  the  prisoners  and  to  abandon  all  prejudice 
towards  either  side,  and  to  approach  the  case  with  absolutely  open 
minds  carefully  and  impartially.  [Counsel  explained  how  it  was 
that  the  prosecution  had  been  instituted  by  the  Director  of  Public 
Prosecutions,  and  continued] : The  charges  against  the  prisoners 
are  in  connexion  with  a number  of  youths  who  will  be  called  before 
you.  The  charge  against  Taylor  with  regard  to  some  of  these 
youths,  if  not  all  of  them,  is  that  he  acted  for  the  other  prisoner, 
that  he  procured  these  youths  in  order  that  the  prisoner  Wilde 
might  have  an  opportunity  of  committing  acts  of  gross  indecency 
with  them.  The  prisoners  are  also  charged  with  an  agreement 
together  that  youths  should  be  procured  in  order  that  the  prisoner 
Wilde  might  commit  those  acts  with  them.  On  the  counts  under 
section  II  of  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act,  1885,  the 
defendants  can  be  called  as  witnesses,  if  they  so  desire. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— No,  Mr.  Gill.  I do  not  agree  with  that  at 
all.  If  they  give  evidence,  they  may  be  cross-examined  on  the  whole 
case,  but  they  will  be  entitled  to  give  evidence-in-chief  only  on  the 
counts  under  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act.  , 

Mr.  Gill— As  your  lordship  pleases.  Gentlemen,  the  prisoner 
Wilde  is  well  known  as  a dramatic  author  and  generally  as  a 
literary  man  of  unusual  attainments.  He  has  resided  until  his 
189 


Oscar  Wilde, 


Mr,  (illl 

arrest  at  his  house  in  Tite  Street,  Chelsea,  where  his  wife  lives 
with  the  children  of  the  marriage.  The  prisoner  Tayloi  has  had 
numerous  addresses,  hut  for  the  time  covered  by  these  charges  he 
has  dwelt  in  Little  College  Street  and  afterwards  in  Chapel  Street 
Despite  the  fact  that  Wilde  has  a house  in  Tite  Street,  he  lias  at 
dillerent  times  occupied  rooms  in  St.  James’s  Place,  the  Savoy 
Hotel,  and  the  Albemarle  Hotel.  It  will  be  shown  that  Wilde 
and  Taylor  were  in  league  for  certain  immoral  purposes.  About 
two  years  ago  Taylor  took,  at  a rental  of  ,£3  a month,  the  upper 
rooms  of  a closed  baker’s  shop  at  Litdc  College  Street,  Westminster. 
These  rooms  he  furnished  in  a remarkable  manner.  They  were 
draped  and  furnished  in  a curious  way.  Taylor  is  a man  without 
any  profession.  He  kept  no  servant  in  these  rooms,  with  their 
heavily  draped  windows,  their  candles  burning  on  through  the 
day,  and  the  langorous  atmosphere  heavy  with  perfume.  Here  men 
met  togedicr,  and  here  Wilde  was  introduced  by  Taylor  to  the 
youths  who  will  give  evidence  in  this  case.  Wilde  did  not  hesitate, 
soon  after  his  first  introduction  to  Taylor,  to  explain  to  him  to  what 
purpose  he  wished  to  put  their  acquaintance.  Taylor  was  familiar 
with  a number  of  young  men,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  giving  their 
bodies,  or  selling  them,  to  otlicr  men  for  the  purpose  of  sodomy. 
It  appears  that  there  was  a number  of  youths  engaged  in  this 
abominable  traffic,  and  thiit  one  and  all  of  them  were  known  to 
Taylor,  who  went  about  and  sought  out  for  them  men  of  means 
who  were  willing  to  pay  heavily  for  the  indulgence  of  their 
favourite  vice.  It  will  be  shown  that  Taylor  himself  was  given  to 
sodomy  and  that  he  has  himself  indulged  in  these  filthy  practices 
witli  the  same  youths  as  he  agreed  to  procure  for  Wilde.  On 
nearly  every  occasion  when  Wilde  called  at  these  rooms,  a young 
man  was  present  with  whom  he  committed  the  act  of  sodomy. 

[Counsel  mentioned  the  youths  by  name,  and  continued  :1  The 
first  nine  counts  in  the  indictment  refer  to  misconduct  with  the 
lads  named  Parker;  the  next  three  to  Frederick  Atkins;  two  more 
to  incidents  at  the  Savoy  Hotel;  two  to  the  young  man  Mavor; 
three  to  charges  of  conspiracy;  five  to  Alfred  Wood;  and  the  last 
to  Wilde’s  conduct  in  regard  to  the  lad  named  Shelley.  The  case 
of  the  two  Parkers  may  be  given  as  a sample  of  the  others,  on  which 
I prefer  to  dwell  with  less  minuteness.  It  will  be  shown  that 
Taylor  corrupted  these  lads  and  induced  them  to  meet  Wilde  by 
assuring  them  that  he  was  liberal  in  his  payments.  In  regard  to 
Taylor  the  most  serious  counts  in  the  indictment  charge  him  with 
attcmpdng  to  commit  the  actual  felony  of  sodomy  with  both  the 
lads  named  Parker. 

When  Taylor  gave  up  his  rooms  in  Chapel  Street,  he  left 
190 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

Mr.  GIU 

behind  him  a number  of  compromising  papers  which  will  be  pro- 
duced in  evidence  against  the  prisoners.  In  due  course  I shall 
submit  that  there  is  ample  corroboration  of  the  statements  made  by 
the  young  men,  Charles  and  William  Parker,  at  Bow  Street.  The 
statute  does  not  require  in  cases  of  misdemeanour  that  there  should 
be  corroboration,  but  it  is  desirable  that  there  should  be  corrobora- 
tion if  it  can  possibly  be  obtained.  Anyhow,  there  will  be  abundant 
corroboration  by  independent  evidence  and  by  documentary  testi- 
mony of  the  story  told  by  the  two  Parkers. 

[Counsel  referred  to  the  charges  against  Wilde  revealed  in  the 
course  of  the  Queensberry  trial  and  the  subsequent  proceedings  at 
Bow  Street  Police  Court,  and  he  described  in  detail  Wilde's  alleged 
relations  with  the  two  Parkers,  Atkins,  Mayor,  and  Wood.  Deal- 
ing with  the  case  of  Atkins,  he  said ; ] This  youth  accompanied  the 
prisoner  Wilde  to  Paris,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  whatever  that 
the  prisoner  endeavoured  in  the  most  systematic  way  to  influence 
the  young  man’s  mind  towards  vicious  courses  and  endeavoured  to 
mould  him  to  his  own  depraved  will.  [Counsel  read  a note  from 
Taylor  to  Mavor  in  which  the  writer  asked  Mavor  to  "come  at 
once  and  see  Oscar  at  Tite  Street"  He  continued : ] The  use  of 
the  Christian  name  of  Wilde  in  so  familiar  a way  suggests  the 
nature  of  the  acquaintance  which  existed  between  Mavor  and  Wilde, 
who  was  old  enough  to  be  the  boy’s  father.  [Counsel  finally 
touched  on  the  case  of  Shelley.]  There  is  a difference  about  Wilde’s 
acquaintance  with  Shelley,  the  lad  whom  he  met  in  the  shop  of  his 
publishers,  Messrs.  Mathews  & Lane,  where  he  was  employed.  It 
was  an  acquaintance  with  a literary  side,  but  it  went  through  the 
same  stages. 

I ask  you,  gentlemen,  to  give  this  case,  painful  as  it  must  neces- 
sarily be,  your  most  earnest  and  careful  consideration,  and  I assure 
you  that  the  evidence  I shall  call  will  justify  you  in  finding  the 
prisoners  guilty  on  all  counts. 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Charles  Parker,  examined  by  Mr.  C.  F.  Gill— I am  21  years 
of  age.  I have  a brother,  William.  I have  been  engaged  as  a valet 
and  my  brother  as  a groom.  At  the  beginning  of  1S93  I was  out  of 
employment.  I remember  one  day  at  that  time  being  with  my 
brother  at  the  St.  James’s  Restaurant,  in  the  bar.  While  there 
Taylor  came  up  and  spoke  to  us.  He  was  an  entire  stranger.  He 
passed  the  compliments  of  the  day,  and  asked  us  to  have  a drink. 
We  got  into  conversation  with  him.  He  spoke  about  men. 

191 


Oscar  Wilde. 


eiiariM  Parker 

In  what  way? — He  called  attention  to  the  prostitutes  who  Cre- 
quent  Piccadilly  Circus  and  remarked,  “I  can’t  understand  sensible 
men  wasting  their  money  on  painted  trash  like  that.  Many  do, 
tltough.  But  there  are  a few  who  know  better.  Now,  you  could 
get  money  in  a certain  way  easily  enough  if  you  c,ired  to,”  I 
understood  to  what  Taylor  alluded  and  made  a coarse  reply, 

I am  obliged  to  ask  you  what  it  was  you  actually  said? — 1 do 
not  like  to  say. 

You  were  less  squeamish  at  the  time,  I dare  say.  I ask  you  for 
the  words? — 1 said  that  if  any  old  gentleman  with  money  took  a 
fancy  to  me,  I was  agreeable.  1 «/or  agreeable.  I was  terribly 
hard  up. 

What  did  Taylor  say? — He  laughed  and  said  that  men  far 
cleverer,  richer  and  better  than  I preferred  things  of  that  kind. 
After  giving  Taylor  our  address  wc  parted. 

Did  Taylor  mention  the  prisoner  Wilde?— Not  at  that  time. 

Where  did  you  first  meet  Wilde?— Taylor  asked  us  to  visit  him 
(Taylor)  next  day  at  Little  College  Street.  Wc  went  the  next 
morning.  He  said  he  could  introduce  us  to  a man  who  was  good 
for  plenty  of  money,  and  that  we  were  to  meet  him  (Taylor)  at  the 
St.  James's  bar.  We  went  the  next  evening  to  the  St.  James’s  and 
saw  Taylor  there.  He  took  us  to  a restaurant  in  Rupert  Street.  I 
think  it  was  the  Solferino.  Wc  were  shown  upstairs  to  a private 
room,  in  which  there  was  a dinner  table  laid  for  four,  After  a 
while  Wilde  came  in  and  I was  formally  introduced.  I had  never 
seen  him  before,  but  I had  heard  of  him.  We  dined  about  eight 
o’clock.  Wc  all  four  sat  down  to  dinner,  Wilde  sitting  on  my  left, 

Who  made  the  fourth?— My  brother,  William  Parker,  I had 
promised  Taylor  that  he  should  accompany  me. 

Was  tile  dinner  a good  dinner?— Yes.  The  table  was  lighted 
with  red-shaded  candles.  We  had  plenty  of  champagne  with  our 
dinner  and  brandy  and  coffee  afterwards.  We  all  partook  of  it. 
Wilde  paid  for  the  dinner. 

Of  what  nature  was  the  conversarion?— General,  at  first. 
Nothing  was  then  said  as  to  the  purposes  for  which  we  had  come 
together. 

And  then? — Subsequently  Wilde  said  to  me.  “This  is  the 
boy  for  me  I Will  you  go  to  the  Savoy  Hotel  with  me?”  I 
consented,  and  Wilde  drove  me  in  a cab  to  the  hotel.  Only  he 
and  I went,  leaving  my  brother  and  Taylor  behind.  At  the  Savoy 
wc  went  first  to  Wilde’s  sitting  room  on  the  second  floor. 

More  drink  was  offered  you  there? — ^Yes,  wc  had  liqueurs. 
Wilde  then  asked  me  to  go  into  his  bedroom  with  him. 

192 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Chirlei  Paikei 

Let  us  know  what  occurred  there? — ^He  committed  the  act  oJ 
sodomy  upon  me. 

With  your  consent? — [Witness  did  not  reply.] 

Did  Wilde  give  you  any  money  on  that  occasion?— Before  1 
left  Wilde  gave  me  ^2,  telling  me  to  call  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  in  a 
week.  I went  there  about  a week  afterwards  at  eleven  o’clock  at 
night.  We  had  supper,  with  champagne.  Wilde  on  that  occasion 
committed  the  same  acts  as  on  the  first  occasion.  I stayed  about 
two  hours.  When  I left,  Wilde  gave  me  ;{3.  I remember  subse- 
quently going  with  my  brother  to  13  Little  College  Street.  We 
slept  there  with  Taylor.  Taylor  told  us  on  that  occasion  that  he 
had  gone  through  a form  of  marriage  with  a youth  named  Mason. 

Did  he  say  who  acted  as  the  woman? — ^Yes;  he  said  he  did;  that 
he  was  in  woman's  dress,  and  that  they  had  a wedding  breakfast. 

[Witness  here  related  proposals  said  to  have  been  made  by 
Taylor  for  the  commission  of  indecencies  to  which  the  witness 
would  not  consent.  Witness  gave  positive  evidence  as  to  the  com- 
mission of  acts  of  gross  indecency  at  Taylor's  rooms  in  Chapel 
Street.] 

Examination  continued — I stayed  with  Taylor  at  Chapel  Street 
for  about  a fortnight.  Wilde  used  to  call  there,  and  the  same  thing 
occurred  as  at  the  Savoy.  I had  for  a fortnight  or  three  weeks  a 
room  at  50  Park  Walk,  Chelsea.  At  the  time  I was  living  at  Park 
Walk,  Wilde  visited  me  there.  I was  asked  by  Wilde  to  imagine 
that  I was  a woman  and  that  he  was  my  lover.  I had  to  keep  up 
this  illusion.  I used  to  sit  on  his  knees  and  he  used  to  ...  as  a 
man  might  amuse  himself  with  a girl.  Wilde  insisted  on  this 
filthy  make-believe  being  kept  up.  Wilde  visited  me  at  Park  Walk 
one  night  between  half-past  eleven  or  twelve.  He  came  in  a cab, 
and  droye  away  after  staying  about  a quarter  of  an  hour.  Wilde 
kept  his  cab  standing  outside.  In  consequence  of  this  incident  my 
landlady  gave  me  notice  to  leave  and  I left. 

Apart  from  money,  did  Wilde  give  you  any  presents?— Yes,  he 
gave  me  a silver  cigarette  case  and  a gold  ring.  I don’t  suppose 
Iwys  are  different  to  girls  in  acquiring  presents  from  them  who  are 
fond  of  them. 

You  pawned  the  cigarette  case  and  the  ring?— Yes. 

Where  else  did  you  visit  Wilde?— I visited  Wilde  at  his  rooms 
in  St.  James’s  Place.  Taylor  gave  me  the  address.  Wilde  had  a 
bedroom  and  a sitting  room  opening  into  each  other.  I have  been 
there  in  the  morning  and  to  tea  in  the  afternoon.  [Witness  went 

M 193 


Oscar  Wilde. 


ehulet  Parker 

In  what  wayf— He  called  attention  to  the  prostitutes  who  frfr 
qucnt  Piccadilly  Circus  and  remarked,  “I  can't  understand  sensible 
men  wasting  their  money  on  painted  trash  like  that.  Many  do, 
though.  But  there  are  a few  who  know  better.  Now,  you  could 
get  money  in  a certain  way  easily  enough  i£  you  cared  to."  I 
understood  to  what  Taylor  alluded  and  made  a coarse  reply. 

I am  obliged  to  ask  you  what  it  was  you  actually  said?— 1 do 
not  like  to  say. 

You  were  less  squeamish  at  the  time,  I dare  say.  I ask  you  for 
the  words? — I said  that  if  any  old  gentleman  with  money  took  a 
fancy  to  me,  I was  agreeable.  I was  agreeable.  I was  terribly 
hard  up. 

What  did  Taylor  say? — He  laughed  and  said  that  men  far 
cleverer,  richer  and  better  than  I preferred  things  of  that  kind. 
After  giving  Taylor  our  address  we  parted. 

Did  Taylor  mention  the  prisoner  Wilde?— Not  at  that  time. 

Where  did  you  first  meet  Wilde? — Taylor  asked  us  to  visit  him 
(Taylor)  next  day  at  Little  College  Street.  We  went  the  next 
morning.  He  said  he  could  introduce  us  to  a man  who  was  good 
for  plenty  of  money,  and  that  we  were  to  meet  him  (Taylor)  at  the 
St.  James’s  bar.  We  went  the  next  evening  to  the  St.  James’s  and 
taw  Taylor  there.  He  took  us  to  a re.staurant  in  Ruitcrt  Street.  I 
think  it  was  the  Solterino.  Wc  were  shown  upstairs  to  a private 
room,  in  which  there  was  a dinner  table  laid  for  four.  After  a 
while  Wilde  came  in  and  I was  formally  introduced.  I had  never 
teen  him  before,  but  I had  heard  of  him.  We  dined  tibrmt  eight 
o’clock.  We  all  four  sat  down  to  dinner,  Wilde  sitting  on  my  left. 

Who  made  the  fourth?— My  brother,  William  Parker.  I had 
promised  Taylor  that  he  should  accompany  me. 

Was  the  dinner  a good  dinner?— Yes.  The  table  was  lighted 
with  red-shaded  candles.  We  liad  plenty  of  champagne  with  our 
dinner  and  brandy  and  coffee  afterwards.  We  all  partook  of  it. 
Wilde  paid  for  the  dinner. 

Of  what  nature  was  the  ronversation?— General,  at  first. 
Nothing  was  then  said  as  to  the  purposes  for  which  we  had  come 
together. 

And  then? — Subsequently  Wilde  said  to  me.  “This  is  the 
boy  for  mel  Will  you  go  to  the  Savoy  Hotel  with  me?”  I 
consented,  and  Wilde  drove  me  in  a cab  to  the  hotel.  Only  he 
and  I went,  leaving  my  brother  and  Taylor  behind.  At  the  Savoy 
we  went  first  to  Wilde’s  sitting  room  on  the  second  floor, 

More  drink  was  offered  you  there?— Yes,  wc  had  liqueurs. 
Wilde  then  asked  me  to  go  into  his  bedroom  with  him. 

19a 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Chuleg  Parkei 

Let  US  know  what  occurred  there? — He  committed  the  act  of 
sodomy  upon  me. 

With  your  consent? — [Witness  did  not  reply.] 

Did  Wilde  give  you  any  money  on  that  occasion? — Before  1 
left  Wilde  gave  me  telling  me  to  call  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  in  a 
week.  I went  there  about  a week  afterwards  at  eleven  o’clock  at 
night.  We  had  supper,  with  champagne.  Wilde  on  that  occasion 
committed  the  same  acts  as  on  the  first  occasion.  I stayed  about 
two  hours.  When  I left,  Wilde  gave  me  Xi'  I remember  subse- 
quently going  with  my  brother  to  13  Little  College  Street.  We 
slept  there  with  Taylor.  Taylor  told  us  on  that  occasion  that  he 
had  gone  through  a form  of  marriage  with  a youth  named  Mason. 

Did  he  say  who  acted  as  the  woman? — Yes;  he  said  he  did;  that 
he  was  in  woman's  dress,  and  that  they  had  a wedding  breakfast. 

[Witness  here  related  proposals  said  to  have  been  made  by 
Taylor  for  the  commission  of  indecencies  to  which  the  witness 
would  not  consent.  Wimess  gave  positive  evidence  as  to  the  com- 
mission of  acts  of  gross  indecency  at  Taylor’s  rooms  in  Chapel 
Street,] 

Examinatton  conUnuedr~l  stayed  with  Taylor  at  Chapel  Street 
for  about  a fortnight.  Wilde  used  to  call  there,  and  the  same  thing 
occurred  as  at  the  Savoy.  I had  for  a fortnight  or  three  weeks  a 
room  at  50  Park  Walk,  Chelsea.  At  the  time  I was  living  at  Park 
Walk,  Wilde  visited  me  there.  I was  asked  by  Wilde  to  imagine 
that  I was  a woman  and  that  he  was  my  lover.  I had  to  keep  up 
this  illusion.  I used  to  sit  on  his  knees  and  he  used  to  ...  as  a 
man  might  amuse  himself  with  a girl.  Wilde  insisted  on  this 
filthy  make-believe  bang  kept  up.  Wilde  visited  me  at  Park  Walk 
one  night  between  half-past  eleven  or  twelve.  He  came  in  a cab, 
and  droye  away  after  staying  about  a quarter  of  an  hour.  Wilde 
kept  his  cab  standing  outside.  In  consequence  of  this  incident  my 
landlady  gave  me  notice  to  leave  and  I left. 

Apart  from  money,  did  Wilde  give  you  any  presents?— Yes,  he 
gave  me  a silver  dgarette  case  and  a gold  ring.  I don't  suppose 
Ixjys  are  different  to  girls  in  acquiring  presents  from  them  who  arc 
fond  of  them. 

You  pawned  the  cigarette  case  and  the  ring?— Yes. 

Where  else  did  you  visit  Wilde? — visited  WUde  at  his  rooms 
in  St.  James’s  Place.  Taylor  gave  me  the  address.  Wilde  had  a 
bedroom  and  a sitting  room  opening  into  each  other.  I have  been 
there  in  the  morning  and  to  tea  in  the  afternoon.  [Witness  went 
H 193 


Oscar  Wilde. 


CliarlCB  Fuller 

on  to  describe  an  act  o£  indecency  which  he  alleged  took  place 
with  Wilde  on  one  o{  these  occasions.] 

Where  else  have  you  been  with  Wilde? — ^To  Kettner’s 
Restaurant. 

What  happened  there? — ^We  dined  there.  We  always  had  a lot 
o£  wine.  Wilde  would  talk  o£  poetry  and  art  during  dinner,  and 
of  the  old  Roman  days. 

On  one  occasion  you  proceeded  from  Kettner’s  to  Wilde’s 
house? — Yes.  We  went  to  Tite  Street.  It  was  very  late  at  night, 
Wilde  let  himself  and  me  in  with  a latchkey.  1 remained  the  night, 
sleeping  with  the  prisoner,  and  he  himself  let  me  out  in  the  early 
morning  before  anyone  was  about. 

Where  else  have  you  visited  tliis  man?— At  the  Albemarle 
Hotel.  The  same  thing  happened  there. 

Where  did  your  last  interview  lake  place? — I last  saw  Wilde  in 
Trafalgar  Square  about  nine  months  ago.  He  was  in  a hansom 
and  saw  me.  He  alighted  from  the  hansom  and  spoke  to  me. 

What  did  he  say?— He  asked  me  how  I was  and  said,  “Well, 
you  ai-e  looking  as  pretty  as  ever.’’  He  did  not  ask  me  lo  go  any- 
where with  him  then. 

During  the  period  of  your  acquaintance  with  Wilde  did  you 
frequently  sec  Taylor?— Yes, 

Who  else  did  you  meet  at  Little  Gdlege  Streci  ?— Atkins,  Wood, 
and  Scarfe,  amongst  others. 

Did  you  continue  your  acquaintance  with  Taylor  until  a certain 
inddent  occurred  last  August?  You  were  arrested  in  the  course  of 
a police  raid  on  a certain  house  in  Fitzroy  Street?— Yes. 

Orgies  of  the  most  disgraceful  kind  used  to  happen  there?— 
Yes. 

Mr.  Gkain— My  lord,  I must  protest  against  the  introduction  of 
matter  extraneous  to  the  indictment.  Surely  I have  enough  to 
answer. 

Mr.  Gru>— I wish  to  show  that  Parker  ceased  his  acquaintance 
with  Taylor  after  that  incident. 

Examination  When  did  you  cease  your  association 

with  Taylor?— In  August,  1894.  I went  away  into  the  country  and 
took  up  another  occupation. 

By  Mr.  Justice  Charles— What  was  the  occupation? — ^I  enlisted. 
While  I was  with  my  regiment  I was  seen  by  Lord  Queensberry’s 
solidtor,  and  he  took  down  a statement  from  me. 

194 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Cliivles  Farliet 

Examination  continued— UntH  you  became  acquainted  witli 
Taylor  had  you  ever  been  mixed  up  with  men  in  the  commission  of 
indecent  acts?— No,  never. 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Curke— On  what  date  did  you 
enlist?— On  3rd  September. 

When  were  you  seen  in  the  country  in  reference  to  this  case? — 
Towards  the  end  of  March. 

Who  saw  you?— Mr.  Russell. 

Was  there  no  examination  before  that?— No.  That  was  the 
first  I heard  of  these  matters.  I enlisted  in  my  own  name.  1 Jo 
not  know  how  Mr.  Russell  found  me  out. 

Did  you  state  at  Bow  Street  that  you  received  ,{30  not  to  say 
anything  about  a certain  case? — ^Yes.  I stated  at  the  Police  Court 
that  I had  received  ,^30,  part  of  moneys  extorted  from  a gentleman 
with  whom  I had  committed  acts  of  indecency.  I received  the 
a few  days  before  I was  arrested  in  August,  1894.  I can’t  remember 
the  exact  date,  but  it  was  a month  or  two  before  I enlisted. 

I don’t  ask  the  name  of  the  gentleman  from  whom  the  money 
was  extorted,  but  I do  ask  the  names  of  the  two  men  who  got  the 
money  and  gave  you  ;£30?— Wood  and  Allen.  I could  not  tell  you 
where  AUen  is  now.  He  used  to  live  in  Crawford  Street.  Wood  is 
a witness  in  this  case,  I know. 

When  had  the  incident  occurred  in  consequence  of  which  you 
received  the  ^£30— how  long  before? — I cannot  think. 

You  had  had  indecent  behaviour  with  the  gentleman  in  que^ 
don?- Yes;  but  only  on  one  occasion,  at  Camera  Square,  Chelsea. 

Where  you  were  living? — Yes. 

Did  the  gendeman  come  to  your  room? — Yes. 

By  your  invitation? — ^He  asked  me  if  he  could  come. 

And  you  took  him  home  with  you?— Yes. 

Did  Wood  and  Allen  happen  to  come  in  while  the  gendeman 
was  there? — No. 

How  much  did  Wood  and  Allen  tell  you  they  got?— I can’t 
remember. 

Try  and  remember? — ,£300  or  ,£400. 

Was  that  the  first  sum  of  money  you  had  received  under  circum- 
stances of  that  kind?— Yes. 

What  did  you  do  with  the  ,£30?— Spent  it. 

And  then  went  into  the  army?— I spent  it  in  about  a couple  of 
days. 

I’ll  leave  that  question.  You  say  positively  that  Mr.  Wilde 
committed  sodomy  with  you  at  the  Savoy?— Yes. 

195 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Charitii  Ptrker 

But  you  have  been  in  the  habit  of  accusing  other  gentlemen  of 
the  same  oflence? — Never,  unless  it  has  been  done. 

I submit  chat  you  blackmail  gentlemen? — No,  sir.  I have 
accepted  money,  but  it  has  been  offered  to  me  to  pay  me  for  the 
offence.  I have  been  solicited.  I have  never  suggested  this  offence 
to  gentlemen. 

[At  counsel's  request  witness  wrote  down  the  name  and  address 
of  his  late  employer.] 

Cross-examination  continued — was  in  that  gendeman’s  service 
as  a valet  for  nine  or  ten  months.  I did  not  leave  the  place  without 
a character. 

Did  not  you  say  diat  your  employer  had  stated  that  you  had 
stolen  some  clothes?— Yes. 

How  did  you  know  that  he  had  said  so?— He  wrote  and  told 
me  so,  and  asked  me  to  send  the  things  back,  which  I did.  They 
were  not  clothes,  they  were  shirts  and  collars. 

Well,  I call  them  clothes.  Did  you  have  a written  character?— 
Yes. 

But  was  not  that  wiitten  before  the  lobbery  of  the  clothes  was 
discovered?— Yes,  that  is  so. 

Did  you  ever  live  at  D'Oyley  Street,  Chelsea?— No,  never. 

Do  you  know  a person  named  Thurr?— No. 

When  Taylor  asked  you  if  you  ever  went  widi  men  and  got 
money  for  it,  did  you  understand  what  he  meant?— Yes. 

You  had  heard  of  such  things  before?— Yes. 

Then  it  was  with  the  intendon  of  entering  upon  such  practices 
that  you  called  upon  Taylor? — ^No. 

Then  why  did  you  cdl  upon  him? — Because  he  asked  me  to. 

You  meant  to  go  with  men  and  get  money?— Yes. 

You  understood  the  practices  you  were  going  to  enter  upon? — 
Yes.  I told  Wilde  that  I wanted  to  get  some  employment  on  the 
stage.  I knew  that  Wilde  was  a dramadst,  and  had  much  to  do 
widi  theatres;  and  I suggested  that  he  might  help  me.  He  showed 
curiosity  about  my  family  and  affairs,  and  1 told  him  my  father 
was  a horse  dealer. 

When  you  allowed  yourself  to  be  introduced  to  Mr.  Wilde  you 
knew  perfectly  well  the  purpose  for  which  the  introduedon  was 
made?— Yes. 

At  the  dinner,  Mr.  Wilde  was  the  principal  conversationalist,  1 
suppose?— Yes. 

And  you  found  him  a brilliant  and  an  amusing  talker?— Yes. 

196 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

ClmrkB  Pntlur 

Was  the  door  locked  during  the  time  you  describe?— On  the 
first  visit  to  the  Savoy  Hotel  Wilde  locked  the  bedroom  door. 

I did  not  see  any  servants  as  I left  the  hotel.  I went  away  in  a 
hansom.  As  to  the  second  visit  Wilde  told  me  the  night  and  the 
time  to  come  again.  I found  Wilde  occupying  the  same  rooms. 

I gave  my  name  and  the  hall  porter  showed  me  up  by  the  lift. 
Wilde  on  this  occasion,  too,  locked  the  bedroom  door.  The  waiter 
who  served  the  supper  of  course  saw  me  there.  It  was  on  the 
second  or  third  floor;  I cannot  be  certain  which.  In  the  sitting 
room  Mr.  Wilde  rang  a bell  for  the  waiter,  and  the  waiter  went  for 
drinks  and  brought  them  in.  The  sitting  room  and  bedroom 
opened  one  into  the  other.  Mr.  Wilde  did  not  lock  the  sitting  room 
door,  but  he  locked  that  of  the  bedroom.  I did  not  know  Mr. 
Wilde  even  by  sight  till  I was  introduced  to  him  at  the  restaurant. 
I did  not  see  anybody  but  a hall  boy  at  the  hotel  entrance. 

There  was  no  concealment  about  your  visit,  was  there?  You 
gave  your  name,  were  shown  up,  and  in  going  away  you  did  not 
attempt  to  avoid  any  of  the  servants.? — That’s  so. 

Had  other  people  besides  Mr.  Wilde  been  to  see  you  at  your  room 
in  Park  Walk?— Yes;  Taylor  used  to  call  upon  me  there— in  the 
morning. 

Did  Wood  come? — No. 

Allen?— No;  I knew  Allen  only  a little  while  before  I enlisted. 
About  the  same  time  I became  acquainted  with  Cliburn. 

If  you  did  not  know  either  of  them  before  that,  from  whom  did 
you  hear  about  the  letters  which  Wood  had?— I can’t  remember. 
I heard  that  Wood  had  gone  to  America,  and  that  he  had  in  his 
possession  some  letters  written  by  Mr.  Wilde.  1 thought  he  had 
taken  them  away  with  him. 

Did  you  hear  that  Wood  had  stolen  them? — Yes. 

From  whom  did  you  hear  that? — I don’t  remember. 

Did  you  hear  that  Wood  had  got  {,20  or  ,{30  from  Mr.  Wilde 
for  some  letters? — I did  not  hear  that  he  got  the  money.  I heard 
from  someone,  I can't  remember  from  whom,  that  Wood  got  the 
letters  out  of  some  clothes  which  were  given  to  him  by  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas.  I never  saw  the  letters. 

Were  Wilde’s  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  at  St,  James’s  Place 
very  public  ones?— Yes.  There  were  men  servants  about.  The 
sitting  room  was  a sort  of  library— there  were  a good  many  books 
about. 

Do  you  suggest  that  in  rooms  such  as  you  have  described  and 
so  situated  this  kind  of  conduct  went  on  again  and  again?— Yes, 

There  was  not  the  smallest  concealment  about  your  visit  with 
Mr.  Wilde  to  the  music-hall?— No, 

197 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oiiii'icii  l>aTlter 

You  sli.ired  a box  wiili  him  al  the  Pavilion?  -Yi.s. 

Crosi-examined  by  Mr.  Grain  -1  know  a pci  son  of  the  name  of 
Harrington.  I made  his  acqmmtance  at  the  Sluting  Rink  at 
Knightsbridge  some  time  before  t met  Taylor. 

Now,  were  you  not  introduced  to  Taylor  by  Harrington? — No. 

I think  Plarrington  was  at  the  St  James’s  bar,  hut  he  did  not 
make  the  introduedon. 

Did  Wood  frequendy  visit  you  at  Camera  Square?— Yes. 

Are  you  quite  sure  that  the  sum  of  mentioned  by  Sir 
Edward  Clarke  is  the  only  sum  you  have  received  under  similar 
circumstances  ?—Y  cs. 

Had  Wood  ever  suggested  persons  to  you  from  whom  he  might 
obtain  money,  .and  that  you  might  participate  in  it? — No. 

Quite  sure  of  that? — Yes,  quite.  I was  hard  up  at  the  time, 
hut  not  in  debt.  I had  a few  shillings  in  my  pocket, 

Did  you  say  at  Bow  Street  tliat  when  you  stayed  with  Taylor  at 
3 Chapel  Street,  every  night  for  a fortnight : “He  did  nothing  to 
me,  and  I did  nothing  to  him’’?— 1 suppose  I must  htivc  said  so. 

About  six  months  after  you  made  the  acquaintance  of  Taylor 
did  you  gu  to  Paris?— Yes. 

Did  you  go  with  a comixiser?— Yes. 

An  oiicratic  composer?— Yes, 

How  long  were  you  with  that  person  in  Paris?  About  a month, 

I went  widi  hint  as  valet.  He  paid  me  two  guineas  a week.  I 
lived  at  a different  place  to  the  gentleman,  but  went  every  morning 
to  his  residence  to  v.alet  him. 

Do  you  know  a person  of  the  name  of  Burton?— Yes.  I knew 
chat  Atkins  and  Burton  were  living  together  at  die  same  place. 

Did  you  go  to  Monte  Carlo  with  Burton?— Yes,  in  1894.  We 
only  stayed  a few  days. 

Did  Wood  go  with  you? — No. 

Re-examined  by  Mr.  GiUr— Did  you  know  Lord  Alfred 
DouglasP—Yes.  Taylor  introduced  me  to  him.  I know  that  the 
letters  referred  to  belonged  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  Until  I met 
Taylor  I did  not  know  Addns,  Wood,  Allen,  Cliburn,  or  Burton. 

When  did  you  first  make  the  acquaintance  of  Wood? — ^About 
six  months  before  he  went  to  America. 

William  Parker,  examined  by  Mr.  C.  F.  Gill— I am  brother 
of  Charles  Parker.  I have  been  employed  as  a groom.  I was 
present  at  the  dinner  with  Taylor  and  Wilde  described  by  the  last 
witness.  On  that  occasion  Wilde  paid  all  his  attention  to  my 
198 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

'WUUani  Parker 

brother.  He  often  fed  my  brother  off  his  own  fork  or  out  of  his 
own  spoon.  My  brother  accepted  a preserved  cherry  from  Wilde’s 
own  mouth.  My  brother  took  it  into  his,  and  this  trick  was 
repeated  three  or  four  times.  My  brother  went  off  with  the  prisoner 
to  the  Savoy  and  I remained  behind  with  Taylor  who  said,  “Your 
brother  is  lucky.  Oscar  docs  not  care  what  he  pays  if  he  fancies 
a chap."  I went  twice  to  Little  Grllege  Street,  and  on  one  night 
my  brother  and  I slept  with  Taylor  in  the  same  bed.  [Witness 
described  an  attempt  made  by  Taylor  to  commit  sodomy  and 
continued:]  Shortly  afterwards  I went  into  the  country  where  I 
obtained  employment,  and  I had  nothing  more  to  do  with  Taylor 
or  with  Mr.  Wilde. 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edwasb  Clarke— What  employment  did 
you  go  into?— As  a groom. 

What  did  you  do  after  the  dinner? — went  home  after  having 
had  a drink  or  two. 

Hadn't  you  had  enough  at  the  dinner?— I know  when  I have 
had  enough. 

Did  you  know  when  you  went  with  your  brother  to  the  dinner 
that  you  were  to  be  treated  as  women,  and  that  you  were  to  have 
money  for  it?— That  was  what  I understood. 

Mrs.  Ellen  Grant,  examined  by  Mr.  C.  F.  Oa^-I  am  landlady 
of  the  house.  No.  13,  Little  College  Street.  The  prisoner  Taylor 
lodged  at  my  house  for  a year  and  eight  months.  He  had  four 
rooms  there  and  paid  £3  a month.  He  kept  no  servant  and  did  his 
own  cooking  on  a gas  stove.  The  windows  of  his  rooms  were 
covered  with  strained  art  muslin  and  dark  curtains  and  lace  curtains. 
They  were  furnished  sumptuously,  and  were  lighted  by  different 
coloured  lamps  and  candles.  The  windows  were  never  opened  or 
cleaned,  and  the  daylight  was  never  admitted.  It  could  not  come 
in,  tlie  curtains  bang  always  drawn.  There  was  no  bedstead,  but 
there  was  a spring  mattress  on  the  floor  of  the  bedroom. 

What  have  you  seen  in  the  rooms  in  the  shape  of  apparel? — I 
have  seen  a woman’s  wig  and  shoes  and  stockings.  I never  saw  any 
dress. 

Was  there  any  scent  there?— Yes. 

Much  of  it?— Mr.  Taylor  used  to  burn  scent.  Mr.  Taylor’s 
night  shirt,  I noticed,  was  fastened  by  a gold  brooch  pin. 

Were  Taybr’s  visitors,  as  a class,  women  or  men? — Men — 
young  men  from  sixteen  to  thirty.  1 have  seen  Alfred  Wood  there. 
He  once  stayed  for  three  weeks.  Others  were  Sidney  Mayor, 
Charles  Mason,  and  Ernest  Macklin.  Mavor  and  Mason  stayed 
199 


Oscar  Wilde. 


‘WllUnnt  Parker 

there  lor  nights  with  Taylor.  There  were  frequent  tea  parties. 

Who  came  to  them — men  or  women?— Oh,  always  gentlemen. 
Taylor  used  to  address  his  visitors  by  their  Christian  names— 
“Charlie,  dear,"  and  “Dear  boy."  I have  heard  Taylor  talking  to 
someone  he  called  “Oscar,"  but  I have  never  seen  Mr.  Wilde 
there.  Once  I tried  the  door  and  found  it  locked.  I heard  whisper- 
ing and  laughing  and  my  suspicions  were  aroused,  though  I did 
not  like  to  take  steps  in  the  matter.  Taylor  left  the  rooms  in 
August,  1893. 

Before  he  left  had  a sergeant  of  police  been  there?— Yes. 

And  you  showed  him  Taylor’s  rooms  by  the  officer’s  request?— 
Yes. 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Ciarke — I never  saw  Mr.  Wilde 
in  the  house. 

Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Grain— You  understood  that  the  wig 
and  other  things  were  used  by  Taylor  for  fancy  dress? — Yes,  fancy 
dress. 

Re-examined  by  Mr.  Giu.— The  house,  *3  Little  College  Street, 
is  a very  old-fa.shioned  one.  The  ground  floor  wa.s  originally  a 
baker's  shop. 

Mrs.  Luev  Rumsby,  examined  by  Mr.  GtUr-I  let  a bedroom  t« 
Charles  Parker  at  50  Park  Walk,  Chelsea  in  1893.  When  he  had 
been  there  a fortnight  I gave  him  notice  to  quit  in  consequence  of 
the  complaint  of  another  lodger. 

Mrs.  Margery  Bancroft,  examined  by  Mr.  Avort— I am  a 
tenant  of  the  house,  50  Park  Walk.  Taylor  used  to  call  upon 
Charles  Parker  there.  Late  one  night  someone  drove  up  to  the 
house  in  a cab  and  entered  the  house.  Afterwards  1 heard  some- 
one going  downstairs,  and,  looking  out  of  the  window,  1 saw  Mr. 
Wilde  enter  the  cab  accompanied  by  someone  else  who  might  have 
been  Parker.  I had  my  suspicions  and  complained  to  the  landlady 
next  morning.  I knew  it  was  Mr,  Wilde  through  his  haying 
previously  been  pointed  out  to  me.  He  was  standing  outside’  the 
Royal  Academy  with  two  ladies. 

Mrs,  Sophia  Gray,  examined  by  Mr.  GiUr-Taylor  lodged  in 
my  house,  at  3 Chapel  Street,  from  August  to  December,  1893.  He 
occupied  two  rooms.  I have  seen  Parker  there  and  also  Mr.  Oscar 
Wilde.  Wilde  was  only  there  on  one  occasion,  when  he  stopped 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Mrs.  Sophia  Gray 

but  a lew  minutes.  Parker  stayed  all  night.  Other  young  men 
called  upon  Taylor  and  were  alone  with  him  for  a long  dme, 
but  he  used  to  say  that  they  were  clerks  for  whom  he  hoped  to  find 
employment.  I had  no  idea  of  the  nature  of  what  was  going  on. 
(Laughter.)  When  Taylor  went  away  he  left  behind  a box  of 
papers  whieh  I handed  over  to  Mr.  Russell,  Lord  Queensberry’s 
solicitor. 

Frederick  Keariev,  examined  by  Mr.  Gill — I am  a retired 
detecdvc'inspector.  I examined  the  documents  left  behind  by 
Taylor  at  3 Chapel  Street,  and  amongst  them  I found  the  piece 
of  paper  on  whidi  Charles  Parker  had  written  his  address  at  the 
St.  James’s  Restaurant. 

Alfred  Wood,  examined  by  Mr.  Avory — I was  formerly  a 
clerk.  In  January,  1893,  I was  not  in  any  occupation.  I first  knew 
Taylor  about  that  time. 

When  did  you  go  to  Little  College  Street  to  live?— In  January, 
1893.  I stayed  about  three  weeks. 

Where  did  you  sleep  there?— In  the  same  room  with  Taylor. 
There  was  only  one  bed  there. 

When  did  you  first  know  Wilde?— About  a month  after  1 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Taylor. 

How  did  you  come  to  know  Wilde? — I was  introduced  to  him 
by  a gentleman  at  the  CaK  Royal. 

Who  was  the  gentleman? — ^Must  I give  the  name? 

Yes. — ^Lord  Alfred  Douglas. 

What  took  place  when  you  were  introduced  to  Wilde? — I was 
introduced  by  telegram. 

By  Mr.  Justice  Charles— You  would  have  led  anyone  to  believe 
that  you  were  personally  introduced? — In  consequence  of  the  tele- 
gram I went  to  the  Cafi  Royal  at  nine  o’clock  one  evening.  Mr. 
Wilde  was  sitting  down.  He  spoke  to  me  first.  He  asked  “Are 
you  Alfred  Wood?"  I said,  "Yes."  Then  he  offered  me  something 
to  drink  and  I had  something;  and  then  he  invited  me  to  go  round 
to  the  Florence  in  Rupert  Street  to  dinner.  I went  with  him  and 
we  dined  in  a private  room. 

Examination  continued— Whzt  kind  of  meal  was  it?— Very 
nice,  one  of  the  best  to  be  got. 

What  wine  did  you  have? — Champagne.  After  dinner  I went 
with  Mr.  Wilde  to  16  Tite  Street.  There  was  nobody  in  the  house 
to  my  knowledge.  Mr.  Wilde  let  himself  in  with  a latchkey.  We 
SOI 


Oscar  Wiklc. 


AlW  Wood 

««U  Up  to  a bedroom  where  we  had  hock  and  sel/.er.  Hcic  an 
act  o£  grossest  indecency  occurred.  Mr.  Wilde  used  Ids 
influence  to  induce  me  to  consent.  He  made  me  nearly  drunk. 

, . . Afterwards  I lay  on  a sofa  with  him.  It  was  a long  time, 
however,  before  I would  allow  him  to  actually  do  the  act  of 
indecency. 

Did  he  give  you  any  money  that  night  ?-^Yes,  at  the  Florence. 
About  I think  it  was.  He  said  he  drought  I must  need  some 
money  to  buy  some  things  with.  The  money  was  given  before  any 
suggestion  was  made  about  going  to  Tite  Street.  I stayed  in  hi» 
house  about  an  hour.  He  asked  me  to  meet  him  again  at  the 
corner  of  Titc  Street.  Two  or  three  days  after,  about  ii  p.m.,  I 
went  to  the  corner.  Mr.  Wilde  came  up  in  a cab,  and  we  both 
went  into  the  house.  I had  some  chicken  in  the  pantry,  and  after- 
wards went  to  the  bedroom,  where  we  had  something  to  drink.  I 
don’t  remember  committing  any  act  of  indecency  tbai  night.  I 
stayed  only  a very  short  time.  I don’t  remember  that  I ever  went 
again  to  Tite  Street. 

Did  you  ever  meet  Wilde  again?— He  once  came  to  my  room 
in  Langham  Street. 

Did  you  know  he  was  coming?-  -Yes. 

How  did  you  know? — He  came  by  appointment.  He  took  me 
out  to  buy  me  a present.  He  bought  me  half-.i-dozeii  shirts,  some 
collars,  and  liandkercbicfs,  and  a silver  watch  and  chain.  Before 
he  look  me  out  wc  had  some  tea. 

Has  he  given  you  money  on  any  other  occasion?— Yes;  he  has 
given  me  two  or  three  pounds  when  he  has  met  me. 

Up  to  what  time  did  your  acquaintancesliip  with  Wilde  go  on? 
—Up  to  the  end  of  March. 

How  did  it  cease?— I told  Taylor  that  I would  like  to  get  away 
from  a certain  class  of  people,  and  I think  I mentioned  it  to  Mr. 
Wilde,  who  gave  me  ,{30.  I saw  him  at  Taylor’s  rooms. 

what  took  place  between  you? — ^Mr.  Wilde  asked  me  if  I 
wanted  to  go  away  to  America.  I said,  “Yes,”  and  then  he  said 
he  would  give  me  the  money.  He  said,  "You  have  some  letters 
I should  like  to  get  back,”  and  he  gave  me  ,£30. 

In  what  form?— Two  £10  notes  and  two  £s  notes. 

Was  it  a fact  that  you  had  any  letters  of  his  in  your  possession? 
—Yes.  I don’t  remember  how  many,  nor  do  I remember  giving 
them  back  to  Mr.  Wilde.  I might  have  put  them  on  the  table. 

Did  the  letters  belong  to  you? — ^No.  They  were  letters  I found 
in  some  clothes  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  had  given  me.  They  were 
letters  from  Mr.  Wilde  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  I saw  Mr.  Wilde 

203 


.Evidence  for  tlic  Prosecution. 

Allred  Wood 

at  the  Florence  next  day.  He  had  invited  me  to  lunch  with  him 
there. 

What  sort  of  lunch  was  it? — ^Very  nice  lunch.  Wc  had 
champagne.  While  at  lunch  Mr.  Wilde  said,  “X30  is  very  little  to 
go  to  America  with,  and  I will  send  you  which  he  did  by 
messenger.  I went  to  America  two  or  three  days  afterwards. 

Do  you  know  a lad  named  Sidney  Mayor?— Yes;  I met  him  at 
Taylor’s  rooms.  He  was  known  there  as  Sidney. 


Second  T rial  Second  Day— Saturday,  27th  April,  1895. 

Evidence  for  the  Prosecution— continued. 

Aifmd  Wood,  cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke— I went 
to  America  in  1893  and  returned  in  the  following  year.  I repre- 
sented to  Mr.  Wilde  in  1893  that  1 widted  to  get  away  from  the 
class  of  persons  he  was  connected  with,  and  it  was  by  means  of  that 
representation  that  I obtained  the  from  Mr.  Wilde. 

What  have  you  been  doing  since  your  return  from  America?— 
Well,  I have  not  done  much. 

Have  you  done  anything?— I have  had  no  tegular  employment. 

I thought  not?— I could  not  get  anything  to  do. 

As  a matter  of  fact  you  have  had  no  respectable  work  for  over 
three  years? — ^Well,  no. 

Charles  Parker  has  told  me  that  you  and  a man  named  Allen 
obtained  ,£300  or  ,£400  from  a gentleman  and  that  you  gave  him 
(Parker)  ,£30.  Is  that  true? — (After  some  hesitation.)  I didn’t  get 
the  money;  it  wasn’t  paid  to  me. 

Well,  tell  us.  Did  you  get  £300  from  a gentleman?— Not  me. 
Allen  did. 

You  were  a party  to  it?— I was  there,  yes. 

Do  you  mean  by  that,  that  you  came  into  the  room  whilst  the 
gentleman  was  there  with  Parker?— 1 did  not;  Allen  went  in  first. 

At  all  events  Allen  and  you  got  £300  or  £1^  from  the  gentle- 
man?—Yes. 

And  you  gave  Parker  ,£30?— I did  not;  Allen  might  have  done. 
I don’t  know  the  exact  amount  he  got. 

How  much  did  you  get? — ^^175. 

What  for?— Well,  it  was  given  me  by  Allen. 

Then  Mr,  Wilde’s  giving  you  £y>  to  get  away  from  this  class  of 
person  had  not  a very  satisfactory  result? — I was  in  employment  all 
the  time  I was  in  America.  [The  witness  appeared  to  be  chewing 
something  all  the  time  this  evidence  was  being  extracted  from  him.] 
303 


Oscar  Wilde. 

Alina  Wood 

How  did  you  live  when  you  came  back?— On  some  money  left 
me  by  my  father.  I was  not  of  age  when  I went  to  America. 

Was  fhat  before  you  had  the  — ^No. 

When  were  you  last  in  respectable  employment  in  England?— A 
short  time  before  I met  Mr.  Wilde. 

Give  me  the  date?— It  is  so  long  ago  I don’t  remember  it. 

Write  on  a slip  of  paper  the  name  where  you  were  last  employed, 
and  the  date?— I do  not  want  it  disclosed. 

[The  witness  wrote  down  the  name  and  address  of  his  last 
respectable  employer.  The  slip  was  handed  to  the  judge  and  passed 
on  to  counsel.] 

But  you  have  not  given  the  date? — cannot  recollect  it. 

What  were  you  there? — A junior  clerk. 

Now,  did  you  leave  there  in  1891? — I cannot  say.  I think  it 
must  have  been  at  the  end  of  1892. 

How  old  were  you  when  you  left  that  employment? — |The 
witness  gave  no  audible  reply.] 

Did  you  leave  under  circumstances  creditable  to  yourself?— Yes; 

I left  about  three  years  ago. 

Since  you  left  have  you  ever  had  a salary  from  anybody  in 
England?— No. 

How  did  you  live  then?— Money  left  me  by  my  father. 

Anything  else?— I have  been  helping  my  brother. 

How  long  have  you  known  Allen? — Just  before  I went  to 
America. 

At  what  date  was  it  that  you  came  into  possession  of  those 
letters  of  which  you  spoke? — At  the  time  I went  to  Oxford, 
between  January  and  March,  1893. 

How  long  were  they  in  your  possession?— Only  a few  days. 

What? — ^They  were  lying  about  my  rooms  for  a long  time. 

Did  you  hand  them  to  anybody  else? — No. 

Did  you  receive  a letter  from  Sir  George  Lewis?— Yes. 

To  your  knowledge  had  one  of  those  letters  been  copied  before 
you  leceived  that  letter? — 1 don’t  know.  No;  not  to  my  know- 
ledge was  one  copied. 

When  you  gave  the  letters  back,  or  left  them  on  the  table,  or 
whatever  it  was  you  did  with  them,  did  you  know  that  there  was 
one  which  you  did  not  give  back? — Yes. 

Where  was  that  one? — ^Alien  had  it. 

Did  you  give  it  to  him? — ^No;  he  took  it  out  of  my  pocket. 

Did  it  remain  in  Allen’s  possession?— I don’t  know.  I didn’t 
want  to  have  it  back. 


204 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Alfred  Woed 

Did  you  say  at  the  Police  Court  that  you  were  the  worse  for 
drink  when  you  went  on  the  first  occasion  with  Mr.  Wilde  to 
Tite  Street?— Yes. 

Were  you  the  worse  for  drink? — ^Yes. 

How  long  before  you  were  examined  at  the  Police  Court  did 
you  make  a statement  to  someone — a solicitor,  for  instance? — It 
was  just  after  the  arrest  of  Lord  Queensberry. 

Who  came  to  sec  you  about  taking  your  statement?— Mr. 
Littlechild,  the  detective. 

How  did  he  find  you  out? — I don’t  know. 

Where  were  you  living  then?— HoUo way. 

Have  you  ever  since  you  came  back  from  America  visited 
Charles  Parker? — Yes,  at  Camera  Square. 

Have  you  stayed  there?— No. 

Re-examined  by  Mr.  C.  F.  Gnx— At  the  beginning  of  1893  was 
your  father  alive?— No. 

When  you  were  at  home,  with  whom  did  you  live? — ^My 
mother. 

Had  you  been  guilty  of  any  acts  of  indecency  before  yon  knew 
Wilde? — No,  not  with  anv  man  until  I went  to  College  Street. 

How  did  you  get  the  letters?— I found  them  in  the  pockets  of 
some  clothes  which  were  given  to  me  at  Oxford. 

Did  Allen  take  more  than  one  of  the  letters?— Yes. 

And  did  he  give  them  all  back  but  one?— Yes. 

Did  you  know  that  he  was  beeping  one?— Yes. 

Were  the  people  from  whom  you  wanted  to  get  away,  when 
you  went  to  America,  people  whose  names  have  been  mentioned 
here? — Some  of  them  were,  and  there  were  others. 

Whom  did  you  mean  by  the  class  of  people  you  had  been  mixed 
up  with?— 1 meant  not  only  Wilde  and  Taylor,  but  several  others 
whose  names  have  not  been  mentioned. 

Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Grain— When  you  first  met  Wilde  it 
was  because  of  a telegram?— Yes. 

The  telegram  was  not  from  Taylor?— No. 

Mr.  Justice  Charies— He  said  yesterday  whom  it  was  from. 

Thomas  Price,  examined  by  Mr.  Giu.— I am  a waiter  at  a 
private  hotel  at  10  St.  James’s  Place.  The  prisoner  Wilde  had  rooms 
there  from  October,  1893,  to  April,  1894.  The  rooms  were  on  the 
ground  floor,  and  consisted  of  a bedroom  and  a sitting  room  com- 
municating. I recognize  the  prisoner  Taylor  and  I have  seen  him 

i05 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Tliomna  Price 

at  St.  jiunes's  Place  on  one  occasion.  A number  of  other  young  men 
of  quite  inferior  station  called  there  to  sec  Wilde.  Charles  Parker 
came  there  five  or  six  times.  He  used  to  ask  for  Mr.  Wilde  and 
was  shown  into  Mr.  Wilde’s  rooms.  He  lunched  there  once.  1 
know  Atkins  by  sight.  He  called  there  twice.  Scarle  called  five 
or  six  times,  and  a man  named  Barford  about  the  same  number  of 
times.  Mr.  Wilde  had  a latchkey,  but  never  slept  there  more  than 
a dozen  times.  He  generally  arrived  about  eleven  o’clock  in  the 
morning,  did  some  literary  work,  went  out  to  lunch,  and  returned 
in  the  afternoon. 

FaEDERicii  Atkins,  examined  by  Mr.  Avoav.  How  old  are 
you? — I am  twenty  years  old. 

What  is  your  business? — I have  been  a billiard  marker.  I have 
also  been  a bookmaker’s  clerk  and  a comedian. 

You  are  doing  nothing  now? — ^No. 

Who  introduced  you  to  the  prisoners?— I was  introduced  to 
Taylor  by  a young  fellow  named  Schwabe  in  November,  1892,  and 
afterwards  by  Taylor  to  Mr.  Wilde. 

Have  you  met  Lord  Alfred  Douglas?— I have.  I dined  with 
him  and  Mr.  Wilde  at  the  Florence. 

What  happened  at  the  dinner?— Mr,  Wilde  kissed  the  waiter, 

Did  he  ask  you  to  go  to  Paris  with  him?— Yes.  We  were  seated 
at  the  table,  and  he  put  his  arm  round  me  and  said  he  liked  me. 
I arranged  to  meet  lum  two  days  afterwards  at  Victoria  Station,  and 
went  to  Paris  with  him  as  his  private  secretary.  We  stayed  at  29 
Boulevard  des  Capucines,  We  had  two  rooms  there — a bed-sitting 
room  and  a bedroom,  one  leading  into  the  other.  The  day  after 
we  got  to  Paris  f did  some  writing  for  him.  Afterwards  I lunched 
at  the  Caf^  Julicn  with  him.  We  went  for  a drive  in  the  after- 
noon. Next  day  we  went  to  a hairdresser’s,  and  I had  my  hair 
cut. 

Did  you  tell  him  to  curl  it?— No;  he  did  it  on  his  own  account. 

Wilde  was  there?— Yes,  he  was  having  his  hair  cut,  and  was 
talking  to  the  man  in  French  all  the  time.  After  dinner  on  the 
second  day  we  were  in  Paris  I went  to  the  Moulin  Rouge.  Mr. 
Wilde  told  me  not  to  go,  but  I went.  I had  to  pay  to  go  in,  I 
had  some  money  Mr.  Wilde  had  given  me. 

By  Mr.  Justice  Chari-es — Mr.  Wilde  told  me  not  to  go  to  see 
those  women,  as  women  were  the  ruin  of  young  fellows.  Mr. 
Wilde  spoke  several  times  about  the  same  subject,  and  always  to 
the  same  efieet. 


206 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Frederick  Atklm 

Examination  continued— I got  back  to  the  rooms  very  late.  Mr. 
Wilde  was  in  bed.  I went  into  his  room  and  had  something  to 
drink.  A man  of  about  twenty-two  years  of  age  was  in  bed  with 
Mr.  Wilde.  It  was  Schwabe.  I went  to  bed  by  myself.  Before 
I got  out  of  bed  in  the  morning  Mr.  WUdc  came  into  my  room. 
That  was  about  nine  o’clock.  He  talked  about  the  Moulin  Rouge 
and  I told  him  that  I had  enjoyed  myself.  Mr.  Wilde  then  said 
to  me,  “Shall  I come  into  bed  with  you?”  I replied  that  it  was 
time  to  get  up.  Mr.  Wilde  did  not  get  into  bed  with  me.  A 
waiter  came  into  the  room  with  the  breakfast,  and  after  drinking 
a cup  of  coffee  I got  up.  I returned  to  London  with  Mr.  Wilde, 
who  gave  me  money  and  a silver  cigarette  case.  Mr.  Wilde 
addressed  me  as  “Fred,”  and  I called  him  “Oscar.”  I afterwards 
visited  Mr.  Wilde  at  Tite  Street,  and  subsequendy  Mr.  Wilde  called 
upon  me  at  Osnaburgh  Street  where  I was  living.  On  the  latter 
occasion  there  was  also  present  a young  man  named  Harry  Baiford. 
I know  Sidney  Mavor  by  sight,  and  have  heard  him  called  “Jenny 
Mayor."  I once  went  to  St.  James’s  Place  to  see  Mr.  Wilde. 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edwasd  Clakke— Were  you  ill  at 
Osnaburgh  Street?— Yes;  I had  smallpox  and  was  removed  to  the 
hospital  ship.  Before  I went  I asked  Barford  to  write  to  Mr.  Wilde 
requesting  him  to  come  and  sec  me,  and  he  did  so.  I was  removed 
to  the  hospital  ship  the  next  day. 

Where  did  you  last  see  Mr.  Wilde? — At  the  St.  James’s  Theatre 
when  he  came  forward  at  the  end  of  a play. 

When  did  you  first  know  the  gentleman  whom  you  saw  In 
Paris?— Early  in  1892. 

Had  the  gentleman  promised  to  take  you  to  Paris  before  you 
met  Mr.  Wilde? — Yes. 

And  he  could  not  go  at  the  appointed  time? — No. 

So  Mr.  Wilde  took  you  instead? — Yes. 

Are  you  sure  you  came  back  from  Paris  with  Mr.  Wilde? — Yes. 

Did  any  impropriety  ever  take  place  between  you  and  Mr. 
Wilde?— Never. 

Have  you  ever  lived  with  a man  named  Burton? — Yes,  at 
Osnaburgh  Street,  Tachbrook  Street,  and  other  places. 

What  was  he?— A bookmaker.  I acted  as  his  clerk  when  he 
went  to  the  races.  I have  also  appeared  at  music  halls. 

Have  you  also  been  engaged  in  the  business  of  blackmailing? — 
I don’t  remember. 

Think!— I never  got  money  in  that  way. 

207 


Oscar  Wilde. 


I’rodtiicli  Atkiiu 

Has  Burton  not  obtained  money  from  persons  on  the  ground 
that  they  have  eomtnitted  acts  of  an  indecent  nature  with  you?— 
No,  sir. 

Have  you  evei  gone  into  the  streets  in  women’s  dress? — No. 
[Here  the  witness  laughed.]  I swear  I have  not. 

Has  this  man  Burton  to  your  knowledge  obtained  money  from 
gentlemen  by  accusing  them  or  threatening  to  accuse  them  of 
certain  offences? — Not  Co  my  knowledge. 

That  being  your  answer,  I must  particularize.  On  9th  June, 
1891,  did  you  and  Burton  obtain  a large  sum  of  money  from  a 
Birmingham  gentleman  ?— Certainly  not. 

What  names  have  you  gone  by? — I have ‘a  professional  name, 
I have  sometimes  called  myself  Denny. 

Did  Burton  obtain  money  from  persons?— No. 

[Counsel  wrote  a name  on  a piece  of  paper,  which  was  handed 
to  the  witness.] 

Do  you  know  that  name? — ^No. 

Do  you  know  anything  about  a Birmingham  gentleman?— No. 

Where  were  you  hviug  on  9th  June,  1891  ?— -In  Lennox  Gardens, 
Chelsea, 

On  that  date  did  a Birmingham  genilcmnn  come  with  you  to 
the  rooms  you  were  living  at,  and  did  Burton  come  in  and  did 
you  and  he  gel  a large  sum  of  money  from  that  gentleman?— 
Certainly  not,  Nothing  of  the  kind  ever  took  place. 

Then  I ask  you  if,  in  June,  1891,  Burton  did  not  lake  rooms  with 
you  in  Tachbrook  Street?— Yes,  and  he  lived  with  me  there. 

Do  you  swear  that  you  never  took  the  gentleman,  whose  name 
I wrote  down,  home  with  you  from  the  Criterion?— No, 

You  were  in  the  habit  of  taking  men  home  with  you  then? — Not 
for  the  purposes  of  blackmail. 

Well,  for  indecent  purposes? — No. 

Give  me  the  names  of  two  or  three  people  you  have  taken  home 
to  that  address?— I cannot.  I forget  them. 

Did  you  not  take  this  gentleman’s  watch  and  give  it  to  Burton? 
-No. 

Now  1 am  going  to  ask  you  a direct  question,  and  I ask  you  to 
be  careful  in  your  reply.  Were  you  and  Burton  ever  taken  to 
Rochester  Row  Police  Station? — No. 

Well,  was  Burton?— I think  not.  At  least,  not  that  I know  of. 

Did  you  take  the  gentleman  home? — No. 

Did  Button  come  in  and  threaten  him? — ^No. 

Did  you  take  the  gentleman’s  watch  and  chain?— No. 

208 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Frederick  A.tkliii 

And  were  you  taken  to  the  Police  Station  the  following  night, 
and  did  you  there  and  then  give  up  the  watch  and  chain?— No, 
never. 

Where  does  Burton  live  now?— I don’t  think  he  lives  anywhere 
now.  I haven’t  seen  him  for  six  months. 

Did  you,  dressed  as  a woman,  take  a gentleman  home  with  you 
to  35  Alderney  Street,  Pimlico,  in  August,  1892?— No,  I never 
dressed  as  a woman  in  my  life. 

Did  not  that  gendeman  give  Burton  a cheque  for  £,100  made 
cut  in  the  name  of  St.  Denis  or  Denny,  which  he  supposed  to  be 
your  name? — ^No,  I swear  the  thing  never  happened. 

Have  you  ever  been  to  the  Hotel  Victoria  in  Northumberland 
Avenue?— I have  never  been  inside  it 

About  two  years  ago  did  not  you  and  someone  else  go  there 
with  two  American  gendemen?— No,  I did  not.  Never. 

I think  you  did.  Be  carehil  in  your  replies.  Did  Burton 
appear  there  and  extort  money  from  those  gentlemen?— I have 
never  been  there  at  all. 

Do  you  know  Anderton’s  Hotel  in  Fleet  Street?— I have  never 
been  there. 

Have  you  not  stayed  a night  there  with  a gendeman,  whom 
you  threatened  the  next  morning  with  exposure?— I have  not  I 

When  did  you  go  abroad  with  Burton?—!  think  in  February, 
1892. 

When  did  you  last  go  abroad  with  him? — ^Last  spring. 

How  long  were  you  away? — Oh,  about  a month. 

Where  did  you  stay?— At  Gaze’s  Hotel,  Nice.  We  went  to 
Monte  Carlo  one  afternoon. 

You  were  having  a holiday? — Yes. 

Which  you  combined  with  business  in  your  usual  way? 
(Witness  did  not  reply.] 

What  were  you  and  Burton  doing  at  Nice?— Simply  enjoying 
ourselves. 

During  this  visit  of  enjoyment  you  and  Burton  fell  out,  I 
think?— Oh,  dear,  no! 

Was  there  no  dispute  there?— No. 

Yet  you  separated  this  olihcstablished  connexion  after  that 
visit? — gave  up  being  a bookmaker’s  clerk. 

What  name  did  Burton  use  in  the  ring? — ^Watson  was  his 
betdng  name. 

Did  you  blackmail  a gendeman  at  Nice?— No. 

Are  you  sure  there  was  no  quarrel  between  you  and  Burton  at 
Nice? — ^There  may  have  been  a Hide  row.  I don’t  remember, 
o 209 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Fmilerlck  Atkins 

Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Grain — Did  you  go  to  Scarborough 
about  a year  ago?— Yes. 

Did  Burton  go  with  you? — ^Ycs. 

Whal  was  your  business  there? — I was  engaged  piofessionally, 
I sang  at  the  Aquarium. 

Did  you  get  acquainted  while  there  with  a foreign  gentleman, 
a count? — 1 was  not  acquainted. 

[Counsel  wrote  a name  on  a piece  of  paper,  which  was  handed 
up  to  the  witness.] 

Did  you  know  that  gentleman? — ^No.  I heard  his  name  men- 
tioned in  Scarborough. 

Did  you  ever  speak  to  him? — ^No.  I heard  other  young  men 
speak  to  him.  He  had  a big  yacht  lying  out  in  the  bay. 

Now,  1 put  it  to  you,  did  not  you  and  Burton  obtain  money 
from  that  nobleman  to  the  amount  of  nearly  ;^5oo?~No, 

Had  you  an  engagement  at  the  Scarborough  Aquarium?— Yes. 

How  much  did  you  receive  a week?— /4  lOs. 

How  long  were  you  there?— Three  weeks. 

Have  you  ever  lived  in  the  Buckingham  Puhice  Road?  -Yes. 

Then  look  at  die  name  on  that  piece  of  paper,  please.  Do  you 
know  the  name?— No;  I never  saw  it  before. 

When  were  you  living  in  Buckingham  Palace  Road?— In  1892. 

Do  you  remember  being  introduced  to  an  elderly  man  in  the 
city?— No. 

Did  you  take  him  to  your  room  and  rob  him  of  his  pocket- 
book?— No. 

Did  you  threaten  to  extort  money  from  him?— No. 

Did  you  or  Burton  afterwards  go  to  the  gentleman’s  office  and 
threaten  to  expose  the  contents  of  the  pocket-book  unless  you 
received  a large  sum  of  money? — No. 

Did  you  ever  go  to  a place  in  the  suburbs,  on  the  South-Western 
line,  with  Burton?— No. 

Did  you  ever  meet  a man  named  Driver?— Yes,  on  the  race- 
course. He  was  a mere  acquaintance.  He  never  accompanied 
me  on  any  of  my  singing  tours. 

What  other  addresses  have  you  had  in  London  during  the  last 
three  years?- None  but  those  I have  mentioned. 

Mary  Applegate,  examined  by  Mr.  Gin— I am  housekeeper  at 
a8  Osnaburgh  Street,  Regent’s  Park,  N.W.  I was  formerly  a 
servant  there.  I remember  Atkins  lodging  in  the  house.  He  left 
about  a month  ago.  Mr.  Wilde  visited  the  house  twice  within  my 

310 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Maty  A.piplegate 

knowledge.  He  came  about  five  in  the  afternoon  and  left  at  seven. 
Both  visits  were  in  the  same  week.  One  of  the  housemaids  came 
to  me  and  complained  of  the  state  of  the  sheets  on  the  bed  in 
which  Atkins  slept  after  Mr.  Wilde’s  first  visit.  The  sheets  were 
stained  in  a peculiar  way. 

Sidney  Arthuk  Mavor,  examined  by  Mr,  Gill— I live  at  66  St. 
Helen’s  Gardens,  North  Kensington.  I am  in  partnership  with  a 
friend  in  business  in  the  city.  I first  met  Taylor  at  the  Gaiety 
Theatre  in  1892.  Taylor  introduced  himself  and  was  very  civil 
and  friendly.  Afterwards  Taylor  asked  me  to  go  to  Little  College 
Street,  and  I went  to  afternoon  tea.  I went  to  tea  there  a dozen 
times,  perhaps,  and  I have  slept  there  with  Taylor.  I was  intro- 
duced by  Taylor  to  different  people.  At  that  time  I did  not  think 
that  he  had  any  ulterior  designs.  One  day,  however,  Taylor  said 
to  me,  “I  know  a man  in  an  influential  positbn  who  could  be  of 
great  use  to  you,  Mavor.  He  likes  young  men  when  they’re  modest 
and  nice  in  appearance.  I’ll  introduce  you."  It  was  arranged  that 
we  should  dine  at  Kettner’s  Restaurant  the  next  evening.  I called 
for  Taylor,  who  said,  “I’m  glad  you’ve  made  yourself  pretty.  Mr. 
Wilde  likes  nice  clean  boys,”  That  was  the  first  time  Wilde’s 
name  was  mentioned.  On  our  arrival  at  the  restaurant  we  were 
shown  into  a private  room.  A man  named  Schwabe  and  Wilde 
and  another  gentleman  came  in.  I believe  the  other  gentleman 
was  Lord  Alfred  Dougltis.  I thought  the  conversation  at  dinner 
peculiar,  but  I knew  Wilde  was  a Bohemian  and  the  talk, 
therefore,  did  not  seem  strange.  I was  placed  next  to  Wilde,  who 
used  occasionally  to  pull  my  ear  or  chuck  me  under  the  chin,  but 
he  did  nothing  that  was  actually  objectionable.  Wilde  said  to 
Taylor,  "Our  little  lad  has  pleasing  manners.  We  must  sec  more 
of  him.”  Wilde  took  my  address,  and  soon  afterwards  I received 
a silver  cigarette  case  wiA  my  Christian  name  scratched  inside  it. 
It  was  inscribed  “Sidney  from  0.  W.,  October,  1892.”  It  was 
quite  a surprise  to  me  I 

[The  case  was  produced  and  handed  up  to  the  bench.  It  was 
then  passed  round  4e  jury-box,  each  juryman  apparendy  examining 
it  with  the  greatest  interest.] 

Examination  continued — In  the  same  month  I received  a letter 
from  Mr.  Wilde  making  an  appointment  to  see  him  at  the 
Albemarle  Hotel.  In  the  meandme  I had  met  Mr.  Wilde  several 
times  at  tea  in  Little  College  Street.  I arrived  at  the  hotel  soon 
after  eight,  and  we  had  supper  in  a private  sitting  room  with  two 

ZII 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Sidney  Artbur  Mttn 

bedrooms  leading  out  of  it.  I subsequently  stayed  die  night.  No 
misconduct  occurred  when  I stayed  in  the  hotel.  I called  Mr. 
Wilde  “Oscar"  and  he  called  me  “Sidney.”  I have  never  been 
called  by  any  nick-name  and  do  not  know  that  I have  one.  I met 
Mr.  Wilde  at  Taylor’s  again  afterwards.  At  the  time  I went  to 
the  hotel  I was  out  of  employment.  After  I saw  Mr.  Russell,  the 
solicitor,  on  30th  March,  I did  not  visit  Taylor,  nor  did  I receive  a 
letter  from  Taylor. 

Had  you  seen  Wilde  at  Taylor’s  place  in  the  afternoon  before 
you  went  to  the  Albemarle? — ^No. 

After  you  saw  Wilde  at  the  Alhemarle  did  you  sec  him  again? 
—Yes,  two  or  three  times. 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Curkr — ^No  impropriety  has 
ever  taken  place  between  me  and  Mr.  Wilde,  and  Mr.  Wilde  has 
never  given  me  any  money.  I was  always  glad  of  Mr.  Wilde’s 
friendship. 

With  regard  to  the  dinner  at  which  you  were  present,  was  die 
gentleman  who  gave  the  dinner  of  some  social  position?— Yes. 

Cross-examined  by  Mr,  Grain— Taylor  sent  or  gave  you  some 
cheques,  I believe?— He  did. 

Were  they  merely  in  payment  of  money  you  had  advanced  to 
him?— Yes. 

Re-examined  by  Mr.  GiLtr— The  gentleman  of  position  who  gave 
the  dinner  was  quite  a young  man,  was  he  not?— Yes. 

Were  Taylor  and  Wilde  also  present?— Yes. 

In  fact  it  was  their  first  meeting,  was  it  not? — So  I understood. 

Edward  Shelley,  examined  by  Mr.  Avory— I am  twenty-one 
years  of  age.  In  i8gi  I was  employed  as  a clerk  in  the  offices  of 
Messrs.  Elkin  Mathews  & John  Lane,  publishers,  of  the  Bodley 
Head,  Vigo  Street,  W.  In  1893  they  were  publishing  a book‘  for 
Mr.  Wilde.  Mr.  Wilde  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to  the  firm’s 
place  of  business;  he  seemed  to  take  note  of  me,  and  he  generally 
stopped  and  spoke  to  me  for  a few  moments.  As  Mr.  Wilde  was 
leaving  Vigo  Street  one  day  he  invited  me  to  dine  with  him  at 
the  Albemarle  Hotel.  I kept  the  appointment.  I was  proud  of 
the  invitation.  We  dined  together  in  a public  room.  Mr.  Wilde 
was  very  kind  and  attentive,  and  pressed  me  to  drink.  I had 


'■  Silomi,  first  published  ou  und  February,  1893, 
312 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Edward  Shelle)' 

champagne  with  dinner,  and  after  had  whisky  and  soda  and 
smoked  cigarettes  in  Mr.  Wilde’s  sitting  room. 

What  happened  afterwards? — do  not  like  to  say. 

[After  some  hesitation  witness  suggested  that  his  depositions 
should  be  read  over.] 

Examination  continued— Ms.  Wilde’s  conversation  was  prin- 
cipally about  books  and  myseli  Mr.  Wilde  said,  “Will  you  come 
into  my  bedroom?"  I did  not  know  what  he  meant.  As  I went 
into  the  room  Mr.  Wilde  kissed  me.  He  also  put  his  arms  round 
me.  I had  been  taking  a lot  of  wine.  I felt  insulted,  degraded,  and 
objected  vigorously.  Mr.  Wilde  said  he  was  sorry  and  that  he  had 
drunk  too  much  wine.  I stayed  the  night  and  shared  his  bed. 
Mr.  Wilde  saw  me  next  day  and  again  kissed  me  and  there  was  a 
repetidon  of  the  previous  night’s  performance.  Mr.  Wilde  said 
he  could  get  me  on,  and  he  invited  me  to  go  with  him  to  Brighton, 
Cromer  and  Paris,  but  I did  not  go.  He  made  me  a present  of  a 
set  of  his  writings,  including  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray.  He 
wrote  something  in  the  books,  “To  one  1 like  well,”  or  something 
to  that  effect,  but  I tore  out  the  pages  bearing  the  inscriptions.  I 
only  did  that  quite  recently,  after  I heard  of  the  charges  suggested 
by  Lord  Queensberry.  My  father  objected  to  my  friendship  with 
Mr.  Wilde.  At  first  I thought  that  Mr.  Wilde  was  a kind  of 
philanthropist,  fond  of  youth  and  eager  to  be  of  assistance  to  young 
men  of  any  promise.  But  certain  speeches  and  actions  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Wilde  caused  me  to  alter  this  opinion.  I also  received  letters 
from  Mr.  Wilde  which  I kept  until  about  a couple  of  years  ago. 
At  the  same  time  I wrote  Mr.  Wilde  a letter  in  which  I said  that  I 
could  not  have  anything  more  to  do  with  a man  of  his  morality 
and  that  I would  break  off  the  acquaintance. 

Mr.  Justice  Chaeles — Can  this  letter  be  produced?  [The  letter 
was  not  forthcoming,  and  his  lordship  continued : ] I don’t  know 
whether  I can  take  the  letter  as  evidence. 

Examination  continued — sent  by  post  the  letter  breaking  off 
my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Wilde.  I received  no  answer  to  that 
letter. 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edwasd  Clarke— About  two  years  ago, 
in  1893,  did  you  write  a certain  letter  to  Mr.  Wilde?— Yes. 

On  what  subject?— It  was  to  break  off  Ae  acquaintance. 

How  did  the  letter  begin?— It  began  “Sir.” 

213 


Oscar  Wilde. 


tidnord  Shelley 

Give  me  the  gist  of  it?— I believe  1 siiid,  "I  htivc  suffered  more 
from  my  acquaintince  with  you  than  you  arc  ever  likely  to  know 
of.”  I further  .said  that  he  was  an  immoral  man  and  that  I would 
never,  if  1 could  help  it,  see  him  again. 

If  such  a thing  !i.s  you  allege  happened  you  must  have  re.sented 
the  outrage  upon  you?— Yes,  I did. 

Then  why  did  you  go  and  dine  with  him  the  very  next  day?— 

I suppose  I was  a young  fool.  I tried  to  think  the  best  of  him. 

Are  you  sure  that  you  have  not  made  any  mistake  with  reference 
to  what  you  say  occurred  between  you  and  Mr.  Wilde? — ^No,  I 
have  made  no  mistake. 

Did  it  occur  to  you  after  the  second  occasion  that  it  was  a sin? 
—Yes,  it  did  occur  to  me  that  it  was  a sin  I was  committing. 

Did  you  became  familiar  with  some  of  Mr.  Wilde’s  writings? — 
Yes. 

And  did  you  talk  to  him  upon  literary  subjects?— Yes,  before 
I went  to  the  Albemtirlc  Hotel. 

You  seem  to  have  put  the  worst  iwssible  construction  on  his 
liking  for  you.  Did  your  friendly  reiadons  with  Mr.  Wilde  remain 
unbroken  until  the  time  you  wrote  that  letter  in  March,  1893?— Yes. 

Have  you  seen  Mr.  Wilde  since  then? —Yes. 

After  that  letter?— Yes. 

Where  did  you  .sec  him?— I went  to  sec  him  in  Tile  Street. 

[Counsel  read  the  following  extract  from  a letter  written  by 
the  witness  to  Wilde  after  the  commission  of  the  alleged  acts.] 

Dear  Oscar, 

...  I can  never  forget  your  kindness  and  am  conscious 
tliat  I can  never  sufSciendy  express  my  diankfulness  to 
you.  . . . 

Cfoss-examimUon  continued—'^ as  it  present  in  your  mind  at 
the  time  you  wrote  this  that  Mr.  Wilde  had  insulted  you  when  you 
had  had  too  much  to  drink?— Certainly,  I could  not  forget  such 
a thing. 

Were  you  under  the  painful  sense  of  having  committed  sin? — 
I tried  to  forget  it.  I wanted  to  think  some  good  of  the  man.  I 
thought  Mr.  Wilde  was  really  sorry  for  what  he  had  done. 

What  do  you  mean,  "for  what  he  had  done”?— His  improper 
behaviour  with  young  men. 

Yet  you  say  he  never  practised  any  actual  improprieties  upon 
you? — Because  he  saw  that  I would  never  allow  anything  of  the 
214 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Edward  Shellay 

kind.  He  did  not  disguise  from  me  what  he  wanted,  or  what  his 
usual  customs  with  young  men  were. 

Yet  you  wrote  him  grateful  letters  breathing  apparent  friend- 
ship?— For  the  reason  1 have  given. 


[Counsel  read  further  letters  from  the  wimess  to  Wilde.  In 
one  letter  witness  had  related  how  he  had  had  “a  ttgbtful  row” 
with  his  father,  how  his  parents  accused  him  of  idleness  and  how 
he  was  “sick  and  tired  in  body  and  soul  of  his  harsh  existence." 
In  another  letter  witness  had  implored  Wilde  to  assist  him,  adding, 
"I  am  trying  to  lead  a Christian  life,  and  I will  accept  poverty  as 
part  of  the  Chrisdan  religion,”] 

Cross-examination  continued— Thtse  letters  were  written  to  one 
whom  you  thought  an  immoral  man?— Yes. 

Well,  we’ll  leave  that  question.  Now,  tell  me  why  did  you 
leave  tlic  Vigo  Street  firm  of  publishers?— Because  it  got  to  be 
known  that  I was  friendly  with  Oscar  Wilde. 

Did  you  leave  the  firm  of  your  own  accord?— Yes. 

Why?— People  employed  there,  my  fellow  clerks,  chaffed  me 
about  my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Wilde. 

In  what  way?— They  implied  scandalous  things.  They  called 
me  “Mrs.  Wilde"  and  “Miss  Oscar.” 

So  you  left? — ^I  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  an  intolerable  position. 

You  were  in  bad  odour  at  home  too,  I thmk?— Yes,  a little. 

I put  it  CO  you  that  your  father  requested  you  to  leave  his 
house?— Yes,  He  strongly  objected  to  my  friendship  with  Mr. 
Wilde.  But  the  difference  between  us  was  made  up  again. 

[Counsel  read  further  letters  from  the  witness  to  Wilde.  In 
one  letter  witness  had  stated  he  had  gone  to  work  in  the  city  at  a 
salary  of  which  he  found  insufficient.  He  therefore  begged 
Wilde  for  financial  assistance,  adding  that  he  would  accept  nothing 
from  “that  viper  John  Lane"  who  had  promised  to  help  him  on 
coniition  that  he  broke  off  his  association  with  Wilde.  In  another 
letter  witness  had  written  of  his  former  employer,  “I  detest 
that  man.”] 

Cross-examination  continued— ^ at  you  in  your  sound  mind 
when  you  wrote  that?— I think  my  mind  must  have  been  dis- 
ordered. I cannot  remember  any  reason  for  calling  Mr.  Lane  a 
viper.  The  only  explanation  I can  give  is  that  my  mind  had 
become  over-strained  through  study. 

215 


Oscar  Wilde, 


MiIwMd  Slielley 

[Counsel  continued  his  reading  oi  witness's  letters,  in  one  of 
which  the  expression  occurred,  “I  am  afraid  sometimes  I am  not 
very  sane.”J 

Cross-examination  continued — was  unwell  at  the  time  I 
wrote  diose  letters. 

You  mean  that  your  head  was  untrustworthy?— Yes. 

When  did  your  mental  balance  recover  itself— if  it  has  done 
so? — ^About  October  or  November  last  year. 

And  have  you  remained  well  ever  since? — think  so. 

Yet  I find  that  in  January  of  this  year  you  were  in  serious 
trouble?— In  what  way? 

You  were  arrested  for  an  assault  upon  your  father?— Yes,  I was. 

Did  your  father  tell  you  to  leave  his  house?— Yes.  It  was 
because  of  my  friendship  with  Mr.  Wilde. 

Did  your  parents  accuse  you  of  idleness? — ^Yes,  they  thought 
me  idle. 

Were  you  quite  in  your  sound  mind  when  you  assaulted  your 
father?— No,  1 eouldn't  have  been. 

Where  were  you  taken?— To  the  Fulliara  Police  Station. 

You  were  offered  bail? — ^Yes. 

Did  you  send  to  Mr.  Wilde  and  ask  him  to  bail  you  out?— Yes. 

What  happened? — In  an  hour  my  father  went  to  the  siadon  and 
1 was  liberated.  My  father  wididrew  the  charge  and  the  case  was 
dismissed. 

Frederick  Atkins,  recalled  and  further  cross-examined  by  Sir 
Edward  Clarke— [This  witness  was  recalled  at  the  request  of  Sir 
Edward  Clarke,  who  had  previously  sent  up  a folded  document  to 
the  judge.  The  document  contained  a record  of  the  charge  sheet 
at  Rochester  Row  Police  Station,  and,  on  reading  it  his  lordship 
immediately  assumed  a grave  expression.] 

Sir  Edward  Clarke  (to  witness)— Now  I warn  you  to  attend  and 
to  be  very  careful.  I am  going  to  ask  you  a question.  Think 
before  you  reply. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— Just  be  careful  now,  Atkins. 

Further  cross-examination  continued — On  loth  June,  1891,  you 
were  living  at  Tachbiook  Street?— Yes. 

In  Pimlico?— Yes. 

James  Burton  was  living  there  with  you?— He  was. 

216 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Frederick  Atkini 

Were  you  both  taken  by  two  constables,  396A  and  500A— you 
have  probably  forgotten  the  ofBcers’  numbers— to  Rochester  Row 
Police  Station  and  charged  with  demanding  money  from  a gentle- 
man with  menaces? — I was  not  charged  with  that.  [Witness  gave 
this  answer  in  a husky  voice.] 

Were  you  taken  to  the  police  station?— Yes. 

You  and  Burton?— Yes. 

What  were  you  charged  with?— With  hitting  a gentleman. 

In  what  place  was  it  alleged  you  had  hit  him?— At  the  card 
table. 

In  your  room  at  Tachbrook  Street? — Yes. 

What  was  the  gentleman’s  name? — I don’t  know. 

How  long  had  you  known  him?— That  night. 

Where  liad  you  met  him? — ^At  the  Alhambra. 

Had  you  seen  him  before  that  time?— Not  to  speak  to. 

Meeting  you  at  the  Alhambra,  did  he  go  with  you  to  Tachbrook 
Street? — ^Yes,  to  play  cards. 

Not  to  accuse  him  when  there  of  attempting  to  handle  you 
indecendy?— No. 

Was  Burton  there?— Yes_. 

Anyone  else? — I don't  think  so. 

Was  the  gentleman  sober?— Oh,  yes. 

What  room  did  you  go  into?— 'iTie  sitting  room. 

Who  called  the  police? — ^I  don’t  know. 

The  landlady,  perhaps?— I believe  she  did. 

Did  the  landlady  give  you  and  Burton  into  custody? — ^No, 
nobody  did. 

Some  person  must  have  done.  Who  did?— All  I can  say  is  I 
did  not  hear  anybody. 

At  any  rate  you  were  taken  to  Rochester  Row  and  the  gende- 
man  went  with  you? — ^Yes. 

[Police  Constable  396A  was  here  called  into  Court.  He  took 
up  his  position  dose  to  the  wimess  box,  while  the  witness  wriggled 
about  and  eyed  him  uneasily.] 

Now  I ask  you  in  the  presence  of  this  ofiicer,  was  the  state- 
ment made  at  die  police  station  that  you  and  the  gendeman  had 
been  in  bed  together?— I don’t  think  so. 

Think  before  you  speak;  it  will  be  better  for  you.  Did  not  the 
landlady  actually  come  into  the  room  and  see  you  and  the  gende- 
man naked  on  or  in  the  bed  together? — I don’t  remember  that  she 
did. 


317 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Frednlck  Atklm 

You  may  as  well  tell  us  all  about  it,  you  know.  Was  that  state- 
ment made?— Well,  yes  it  was. 

You  had  endeavoured  to  force  money  out  of  this  gentleman?— I 
asked  him  for  some  money. 

At  the  police  .stadon  the  gentleman  refosed  to  prosecute?— Yes. 

So  you  and  Burton  were  liberated? — ^Yes. 

About  two  hours  ago,  Atkins,  I asked  you  these  very  questions, 
and  you  swore  upon  your  oath  that  you  had  not  been  in  custody 
at  all,  and  had  never  been  taken  to  Rochester  Row.  How  came 
you  to  tell  me  those  lies? — I did  not  remember  it. 

Mr.  Justice  Ciweles  (sternly  to  witness)— Leave  the  box. 

Elkin  Mathews,  examined  by  Mr.  Gat— I was  formerly  a 
partner  with  Mr.  John  Lane  in  a publishing  firm,  the  Bodlcy  Head. 
At  tliat  time  the  youth  Shelley  was  in  the  firm’.s  employ.  The  firm 
was  acting  as  publkhers  for  Mr.  Wilde  and  he  occasionally  came 
to  the  ofTice,  It  Wits  brought  to  my  knowledge  that  Mr.  Wilde 
was  writing  to  Shelley,  and  as  a result  Shelley  was  requested  to 
leave. 

Aloys  Louis  Vooel,  examined  by  Mr.  Avonv— I am  proprietor 
of  the  Albemarle  Hotel.  Mr.  Wilde  visited  or  stayed  at  the  hotel 
on  various  dates  in  1892  and  1893.  It  was  Mr.  Wilde’s  habit  to 
finish  his  plays  at  the  Albemarle  and  to  produce  dicm  from  there. 
Many  young  men  called  upon  him,  and  at  first  I thought  tliat  they 
came  from  the  theatres.  But  something  raised  my  suspicions,  and 
after  the  third  visit  I came  to  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  Wilde  should 
not  come  to  the  hotel  again.  Through  my  solicitors  I pressed  Mr. 
Wilde  for  a small  outstanding  bill,  thinking  that  by  so  doing  I 
would  prevent  his  return.  I went  abroad  for  my  health,  and  on 
returning  found  to  my  great  annoyance  dial  Mr.  Wilde  had  been 
at  the  Albemarle  from  the  ist  to  the  17th  January  of  this  year. 
To  prevent  him  coming  there  again  I issued  a writ  for  ihc  payment 
of  a week’s  bill. 

George  Frederick  Claridge,  examined  by  Mr,  Ga,t—I  am 
employed  by  Messrs.  Thornhill,  Walter  & Co.,  jewellers  and  silver- 
smiths, of  144  New  Bond  Street,  W.  I supplied  Mr.  Wilde  with 
silver  cigarette  cases  and  other  ardcles.  Mr.  Wilde  ordered  one 
of  the  cigarette  cases,  which  he  bought,  to  be  engraved  with  the 
inscription  "Sidney  from  0.  W."  Instructions  were  given  by  Mr. 
Wilde  for  it  to  be  sent  to  S,  A.  Mavor,  Esq.,  at  an  address  he  gave. 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Charles  Itobinsoa 

Cham-es  Robinson,  examined  by  Mr.  Avory^I  am  employed 
as  a bookkeeper  at  the  Savoy  Hotel.  In  March,  1893,  Mr.  Wilde 
stayed  in  the  hotel.  He  occupied  rooms  Nos.  361  and  362  and 
afterwards  Nos.  343  and  346. 


Second  Trial.  Third  Day— Monday,  29th  April,  1895. 

Evidence  for  the  Prosecution— concluded. 

Mr.  Grain  (to  the  judge)— My  lord,  I don't  know  whether  your 
lordship  has  on  your  notes  with  regard  to  the  wimess  Shelley  that 
he  (Shelley)  stated  that  the  prisoner  Taylor  was  a stranger  to  him. 
The  question  was  put  to  Shelley  at  the  Police  Court,  but  not,  I 
believe,  at  this  trial. 

Mr.  Gill — Certainly  there  is  no  evidence  that  the  prisoner 
Taylor  ever  knew  Shelley. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles — I ought  not  strictly  to  add  it,  because  it 
has  not  been  sworn  to  here.  But  did  he  say  so  before  the 
magistrate? 

Mr.  Grain— He  did,  my  lord. 

Mr.  JosncE  Charles— Very  well. 

The  Foreman  of  the  Jury— That  is  quite  the  jury’s  impresaon, 
my  lord. 

Antonio  Migge,  enamined  by  Mr.  Giii— I am  a professor  of 
massage,  and  I attend  the  Savoy  Hotel  to  massage  patients.  I 
attended  to  massage  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  at  the  hotel,  a bedroom  on 
the  third  floor  being  occupied  by  him.  It  was  in  March,  1893, 
from  the  i6th  to  the  20th  of  the  month.  One  morning  on  going 
to  the  room — entered  after  knocking — saw  someone  in  bed.  At 
first  I thought  it  was  a young  lady,  as  I saw  only  the  head,  but 
dterwards  I saw  it  was  a young  man.  It  was  someone  about 
sixteen  to  eighteen  years  of  age,  Mr.  Wilde  was  in  the  same  room 
dressing  himself.  He  told  me  he  felt  so  much  better  that  morning 
and  that,  as  he  was  very  busy,  he  could  not  stay  to  have  the  treat- 
ment. I never  attended  Mr.  Wilde  again. 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke — ^You  had  gone  to  the 
room  at  the  usual  time  for  massage,  had  you  not?- Yes. 

219 


Oscar  Wilde, 


Antonio  Ml^jt 

Was  the  door  of  the  bedroom  locked? — ^No,  the  door  was  not 
locked. 

And  when  you  opened  the  door,  Mr.  Wilde  was  dressing?— 
Yes. 

In  what  part  o£  the  room  was  he? — ^At  the  washstand. 

Jane  Cottee,  examined  by  Mr.  Avory — I am  employed  as  a 
cliamberraaid  in  the  Savoy  Hotel.  I remember  Mr.  Wilde  staying 
at  the  hotel  in  March,  1893.  At  first  he  occupied  No.  361  and  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas  the  room  adjoining,  No.  363.  I found  it  necessary 
to  call  the  attention  of  the  housekeeper  to  the  condition  of  Mr. 
Wilde’s  bed.  The  sheets  were  stained  in  a peculiar  way.  On  the 
third  morning  of  his  stay,  about  eleven  o’clock,  Mr.  Wilde  rang 
the  bell  for  the  housemaid.  On  answering  the  bell  I met  Mr. 
Wilde  in  the  doorway  of  No.  361,  and  he  told  me  he  wanted  a fire 
in  his  own  room,  No.  363.  There  I saw  a boy  of  eighteen  or  nine- 
teen years  of  age  with  dark  close-cropped  hair  and  a sallow  com- 
plexion. Some  days  later  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  left  tlic  hotel,  and 
Mr.  Wilde  then  removed  into  rooms  in  the  front  of  the  hotel. 

Mrs.  Annie  Perkins,  examined  by  Mr.  Giu.-- 1 live  at  Southsea. 

1 was  formerly  hotisckceper  at  the  Savoy  Hotel,  The  previous 
witness  complained  to  me  alwut  the  state  tif  Mr.  Wilde’s  bedroom. 
I gave  instructions  accordingly. 

WiiiJAM  Harris,  examined  by  Mr.  Avory— I am  a Detective- 
Sergeant  in  the  Metropolitan  Police.  In  May,  1893,  I obtained 
access  by  means  of  a subterfuge  to  the  prisoner  Taylor’s  rooms  at 
13  Uttle  Q)llege  Street,  The  rooms  were  darkened.  Muslin  was 
stretched  across  the  windows.  The  walls  and  the  ceiling  were 
draped  with  muslin,  and  hung  with  fans  and  ornaments.  There 
was  no  bedstead  but  there  was  a mattress  on  the  floor.  The  place 
was  scented.  On  the  mofning  of  6th  April  of  this  year  I saw 
Taylor  leaving  a house  in  Denbigh  Place,  Pimlico,  and  I arrested 
him,  saying  I had  a warrant  Taylor  replied,  "Very  well.  I 
expected  you  last  night.  What  arc  you  going  to  do  with  me?” 
I said,  “You  will  be  taken  to  Bow  Street,  where  the  warrant  will 
be  explained  to  you  and  you  will  go  before  the  magistrate.”  I 
took  the  prisoner  to  Bow  Street  On  him  I found  a subpoena  in  the 
case  of  the  Queen  and  Queensberry. 

Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Grain — ^Was  Taylor  in  attendance 
during  the  trial  of  the  case  of  the  Queen  against  Queensberry?— I 
have  heard  so. 


220 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

WilUain  Rarib 

Was  not  the  darkening  o£  Taylor’s  windows  only  caused  by  the 
drapery  usual  in  Continental  cities  and  modern  flats?— I can 
express  no  opinion  about  Continental  cities,  but  I have  never  seen 
anything  of  the  kind  in  England.  The  muslin  was  not  made  into 
blinds  but  tightly  stretched  over  the  whole  of  the  windows. 

Charles  Richards,  examined  by  Mr.  Gill — I am  an  Inspector 
in  the  Metropolitan  Police.  On  5th  April,  1895,  I went  with 
Sergeant  Allen  to  the  Cadogan  Hotel,  Sloanc  Street,  and  saw  the 
prisoner  Wilde  there.  1 said,  “Mr.  Wilde,  we  are  police  ofiicers 
and  hold  a warrant  for  your  arrest.”  Wilde  replied,  “Yes.  Where 
shall  I be  taken?”  I said,  “You  will  have  to  go  to  Scotland  Yard 
with  me  and  then  to  Bow  Street”  Wilde  said,  “Can  I have  bail?” 
I replied,  “I  don't  think  you  can.”  I then  conveyed  Mr.  Wilde  to 
Scodand  Yard.  On  the  following  day,  6th  April,  I went  and 
searched  Taylor’s  rooms.  There  I found,  amongst  other  things,  a 
gold  broach  and  several  pairs  of  trousers  of  curious  make. 

Thomas  Brockweu,  examined  by  Mr.  Gill— I am  a Detective- 
Inspector  in  the  Metropolitan  Police.  At  five  o’clock  on  5th  April, 
1895,  I received  a warrant  granted  by  Sir  John  Bridge  for  the  arrest 
of  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde.  While  I was  at  Scotland  Yard,  Wilde  was 
brought  in  by  Inspector  Richards  and  Sergeant  Allen.  When  the 
warrant  was  read  over  to  him,  Wilde  put  out  his  hand  and  asked  to 
be  allowed  to  read  it.  This  he  was  not  permitted  to  do.  I 
“I  cannot  do  that.  If  there  is  anything  you  cannot  understand  I 
will  read  it  to  you  again.”  Wilde  then  said,  “What  are  the  men- 
tioned dates?”  I replied,  "On  the  20th  of  March,  1893,  and  divers 
other  days."  Wilde  made  no  further  reply.  Some  letters,  memo- 
randa and  three  writs  were  found  upon  him;  also  an  envelope 
addressed  to  Sidney  Mavor,  Esq.,  with  a pencilled  note  from  Taylor 
enclosed,  and  a note  from  Taylor  to  Wilde.  When  the  warrant  was 
read  to  Taylor,  he  said,  “Is  that  the  only  charge?” 

[Mr.  Gill  read  the  two  notes  from  Taylor  referred  to  by  the 
previous  witness.] 

Dear  Sir, 

Could  not  wait  any  longer.  Come  on  at  once  and  see 
Oscar.  He  is  at  Tite  Street.  I am  here. 

Yours, 


221 


Alf.  Taylor. 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  uin 
Dciir  Osrar, 

When  I left  home  yesterJity  I left  n note  [nr  Sidney 
Mavor.  Littlcchild  callal  shortly  afteiward.s  and  saying  he 
wished  to  write  a note  got  into  ray  nwra.  I found  on  getting 
back  th.at  the  note  to  Mavor  had  been  opened.  In  its  place 
was  one  from  Littlcchild  saying  he  wished  to  .see  me  next 
morning. 

[Mr.  Gat  read  two  telegrams  from  Wilde  to  Taylor  which  had 
been  found,  with  other  papers,  in  a hat  box  which  Taylor  had 
left  behind  when  he  vacated  his  rooms  in  Chapel  Street.] 

Goring,  near  Reading.  21st  August,  1893.  Cannot 
manage  Saner  to-morrow.  So  sorry.— Oscar. 

Knightsbridge.  Obliged  to  see  Tree  at  five  o’clock  so 
don’t  come  to  Savoy.  Let  me  know  at  once  about  Fred.— 
OscAK. 

Sir  Edwasi)  Cuskx— There  was  a dociimeni  found  on  Mr. 
Wilde  when  he  was  arrested  which  I should  like  to  have  rcail. 

Mr.  Gut.— Several  letters  were  found  upon  the  prisoner  Wilde 
which,  subject  to  your  lord.ship's  viewii,  I submit  have  nothing  to 
do  with  this  case.  If  your  lordship  will  look  at  the  letter,  and 
thinks  it  desirable  that  it  should  he  read,  I will  not  press  ray 
objection. 

Sir  Edwaiuj  Ciakke— I will  hand  your  lordship  a copy  of  the 
letter.  All  that  I suggest  is  that  certain  letters  have  been  referred 
to,  and  the  possible  inference  to  be  drawn  from  these  letters  is, 
of  course,  a matter  which  your  lordship  appreciates.  If  your  lord- 
ship  will  look  at  this  letter,  which  was  found  upon  Mr.  Wilde, 
I think  you  will  say  it  is  only  fair  that  1 should  be  allowed  to  read 
it. 


Mr.  Justice  Charles  (after  inspeedng  the  letter)— It  amounts, 
Sir  Edward,  to  a sympathetic  letter  from  a friend  of  the  defendant, 
written  to  him.  I do  not  quite  see  what  bearing  it  has  upon  this 
matter. 

Sir  EnwARD  Curke— Simply  this,  my  lord.  The  inference 
that  is  to  be  drawn  in  any  cases  from  the  contents  of  documents 
found  upon  persons  charged  is  a difficult  thing  to  define.  It  v.iries 
222 


Evidence  for  Prosecution. 

sir  Edward  Clarke 

in  different  cases.  My  view  is  that  as  certain  other  documents  and 
letters  found  upon  Mr.  Wilde  have  been  put  in  for  the  purpose,  no 
doubt,  of  producing  some  impression  relevant  to  the  question  on 
the  minds  of  the  jury,  I ought  to  be  allowed  to  read,  for  the  same 
purpose,  another  letter  found  upon  him  at  the  time.  I will,  how- 
ever, defer  to  your  lordship’s  opinion  about  it. 

Mr.  Justice  Charies — It  comes  to  absolutely  nothing.  Sup- 
posing a letter  had  been  found  upon  him  written  in  a contrary 
sense  by  a person  taking  a different  view,  you  might  say  it  would 
be  very  wrong  to  read  it  to  the  jury,  because  it  might  prejudice 
them. 

Sir  Edward  Ciarke— I quite  appreciate  your  lordship’s  point, 
and  if  you  think  my  request  unreasonable  I will  not  insist. 

Mr.  Justice  Chaeles— I must  leave  it  to  Mr.  Gill.  I do  not 
feel  myself  called  upon  to  invite  him  to  put  it  in. 

Sir  Edward  Curke— I will  not  call  upon  my  learned  friend  to 
read  it  on  the  ground  that  I have  a grievance. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— -It  will  be  sufficient,  probably,  that  I have 
made  the  statement  that  it  is  a letter  from  a sympathetic  friend. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— A distinguished  man  of  letters.* 

Mr.  Justice  Charles — letter  from  a literary  friend,  and  I 
think  it  is  right  I should  say  that  in  it  he  expresses  the  strongest 
feeling  as  to  die  charges  under  which  the  defendant  Wilde  is  living. 

[The  matter  then  dropped,  and  his  lordship  inquired  whether 
there  was  any  one  present  to  prove  that  the  prisoner  Taylor  was 
in  attendance  during  the  trial  of  Lord  Queensberry.J 

Mr.  Gill — I think  Kearley  can  prove  that  his  attendance  was 
secured  here. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— Then  the  jury  may  take  it  that  Taylor 
who  subpoenaed  and  was  in  attendance  on  the  days  named. 

Mr.  Gill— He  was  certainly  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Court. 


a Robert  Buchanan  (1841-ijoi),  poet  and  noveliat. 

233 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Hr,  Gin 

[Hsnry  B-Eau,  Clerk  oE  Arraigns,  formally  proved  the 
documents  in  the  charge  of  libel  against  the  Marquess  of 
Queensberry.  He  added  that  the  jury  returned  a verdict  of  Not 
Guilty  against  the  Marquess.] 

Mr,  Gill— My  lord,  I do  not  intend  to  call  any  more  witnesses. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles — Of  course,  Mr.  Gill,  you  know  that  up  to 
the  present  I have  not  had  the  examination,  cross-examination  and 
re-examination  of  the  defendant  Wilde  in  the  former  trial. 

Mr.  Gill— No,  my  lord. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles — Do  not  think  that  I consider  you  in  any 
way  bound  to  put  that  in.  You  arc  not  bound,  assuredly,  to  call 
all  the  evidence  you  adduced  before  the  magistrate,  but  I under- 
stood you  to  say  on  Friday  that  you  desired  to  take  the  course  I 
have  suggested. 

Mr.  Gill— Sir  Edward  Clarke  having  expressed  a wish  that  the 
evidence  of  Mr,  Wilde  should  be  read,  I consented  to  the  whole  of 
it  being  put  in— examination,  cross-examination,  and  rc-examina- 
lion— but,  of  course,  I could  not  consent  to  any  selected  portions 
being  read. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— The  whole  of  it  being  read  will  meet  with 
no  objection  on  my  part,  but  I would  suggest  for  your  consideration 
diat  it  is  clear  that  there  is  a great  deal  in  that  evidence  which  has 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  case,  especially  with  regard  to 
literary  discussion  and  with  reference  to  persons  whose  names  have 
never  been  mentioned  in  this  case.  I submit  this  point  for  my 
learned  friend’s  consideration.  Of  course,  I was  then  appearing 
for  the  prosecution,  Mr.  Wilde  being  the  prosecutor,  and  the  whole 
•£  his  evidcnce-in-chie£  had  no  reference  whatever  to  matters 
which  are  now  in  issue  before  the  jury,  because  I had  not  entered 
into  the  quesdon  of  the  plea  of  justification  which  was  brought  out 
in  the  cross-examination  of  Mr.  Wilde,  so  that  the  whole  of  the 
statements  made  by  him  with  regard  to  any  matters  now  before 
die  jury,  and  relevant  to  this  case,  were  made  in  ansvver  to  his 
cross-examination.  However,  if  desired,  and  whole  of  it  can  be 
read;  but  it  will  very  soon  be  seen  that  it  has  reference  to  matters 
of  literary  controversy  and  criticism  with  which  I do  not  think  we 
have  anything  whatever  to  do. 


224 


HOHACr  AVORY 
By  "Spy" 


TRAVERS  EIUMPIIREYS 
(From  a conlcniporai7  photograph) 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 


Ml.  GUI 

Mr.  Gill  [afta  leading  the  last  two  questions  and  answers, 'in 
Wilde’s  examination-in-chief  at  the  first  trial,  continued.] — ^My 
position  with  regal  d to  this  will,  I think,  be  clearly  understood 
by  your  lordship.  At  the  end  of  his  exainination-in-chie£,  instead 
ol  being  examined  as  to  each  particular  charge  in  the  plea  of 
justification,  Wilde  was  asked  ondy  these  two  questions. 

Mr  Just  ICE  Chaeles — Then  what  do  you  propose  doing? 

Mr.  Gu.l — Having  put  that  denial  in  these  general  terms,  I 
propose,  my  lord,  to  read  to  the  jury  the  whole  of  the  c^os^exaInlna- 
tion  which  has  a bearing  on  what  the  value  of  that  denial  is, 
because,  of  course,  it  is  simply  a denial,  without  the  mattet  being 
gone  into  m any  way.  Theiefore  1 propose  to  read  the  whole 
cross-examination,  but  not  in  leference  to  other  persons,  because  I 
do  not  desire  to  introduce  any  matter  which  was  outside  the  question 
at  issue  At  that  time  the  quesUon  at  issue  was  whether  the 
prosecutor  was  such  a peison  as  desciibed  by  ihe  prisoner,  and  I 
wish  to  know  what  the  value  of  the  prosecutor’s  denial  was  by 
reading  his  cross-examination, 

Sii  Edwaed  Claekc— I am  agreed,  my  lord,  subject  to  the  sug- 
gestion 1 have  already  made— that  it  will  be  found  that  the  first 
thirty  pages  of  the  cross-examination  have  reference  to  literary 
subjects.  However,  if  my  learned  friend  msists  upon  reading  that, 
I will  withdraw  my  objection. 

Mr.  Gill — It  is  ci ass-examination  on  a question  which  is  very 
important  here. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — I should  not  have  thought  that  it  was 
relevant;  but  my  learned  friend  appears  to  desire  it,  and  your 
lordship  will  see  what  the  character  of  that  cross-examination  is. 

[Mr  C.  F Gill  proceeded  to  read  the  notes  of  the  cross- 
examination  of  Wilde  in  the  Queensberry  trial.  The  reading  was 
Liter  continued  by  Mr  ARTinm  Gill  and  Mr.  Avory.  When  it 
was  finished  Sii  Edward  Clarke  re.id  the  re-exammation.  The 
leading  was  completed  shoitly  before  five  o’clock.] 

Mr.  Gill— Tliat  is  the  case  for  the  Crown,  my  lord. 

Mr  Justice  Chari  es — I do  not  think  it  desbrable  to  proceed  any 
further  this  afternoon. 

The  prisoners  were  removed  from  the  dock. 

225 


p 


Oscar  Wilde. 

sir  lidwfird  Clarke 

Sir  Edward  Ci,arke— [Counsel  demiirrej  formally  to  the  judge's 
decision,  in  the  face  of  his  (counsel's)  previous  objection,  that  the 
prisoners  were  properly  called  upon  to  plead  to  the  conjoint  counts 
of  the  indictment  which  charged  them  with  (i)  conspiracy,  and  (ii) 
offences  under  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act,  1885,  sec.  u, 
under  which  the  accused  could  themselves  be  competent  witnesses. 
Counsel  asked  that  a case  might  be  stated  for  the  Court  of  Crown 
Cases  Reserved,  and  continued:]  The  difficulty  is  that  if  the 
accused  offer  their  testimony  under  the  second  head,  they  practically 
lay  themselves  open  to  cross-examination  under  both.  That  the 
counts  of  the  indictment  have  been  misjoined  in  that  way  prejudices 
the  prisoners,  in  my  submission,  as  to  their  right  to  give  evidence. 
However,  I profess  my  readiness  to  agree  to  the  form  which  your 
lordship  may  think  best  for  stating  a case. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— I was  under  the  impre.s.sion  that  if  there 
was  anything  substantial  in  your  point,  Sir  Edward,  it  should  be 
raised  by  a case  stated  for  the  Quirt  of  Crown  Cases  Iteerved. 
However,  I will  take  time  to  consider  tlic  matter,  anti  I will  give 
ray  decision  on  it  to-morrow  morning. 


Second  Trial.  Fourth  Day  Tuesday,  30th  April,  1895 
Withdrawal  of  Conspiracy  Charges. 

Mr.  C.  F,  Gill— My  lord,  I luive  had  an  opportunity  of  con- 
sidering the  indictment  since  the  case  fur  the  prosecution  was 
closed;  and  in  consultation  with  my  friends,  Mr.  Avory  and  Mr. 
Arthur  Gill,  I have  come  to  the  determination  not  to  ask  for  a 
verdict  on  the  counts  of  the  indictment  charging  cQn.spiracy.  Of 
course,  I do  that  having  in  my  mind  that  no  evidence  has  been 
given  here  at  all  which  was  not  directly  material  to  the  other 
charges. 

'[This  statement  produced  considerable  surprise  among  the 
spectators  in  Court.] 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— My  lord,  if  those  counts  had  been  with- 
drawn in  the  first  instance,  I should  have  made  an  application  to 
your  lordship  for  the  charges  against  the  two  prisoners  to  be  heard 
separately.  Of  course,  my  learned  friend  Mr.  Gill  can  say  at  any 
time  that  there  is  no  evidence  of  conspiracy  and  he  has  a perfect 
legal  right  to  withdraw  the  conspiracy  counts  at  any  stage  of  the 
case.  That  is  all  he  can  do. 


226 


Withdrawal  of  Conspiracy  Charges, 

Mr,  Justice  Charles 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— After  Ac  evidence  had  been  given  it 
occurred  to  my  own  mind  that  Ae  counts  for  conspiracy  were  really 
unnecessary  counts  altogeAer. 

Mr.  Giu^That  was  Ae  conclusion  arrived  at  after  going 
through  Ae  evidence. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— It  is  not  a matter  on  wluch  I have  any- 
thing to  say  at  the  moment.  Mr.  Gill  is  entitled  to  say  Aat  he  does 
not  intend  to  ask  Ae  jury  to  say  Acre  is  evidence  before  Aem  on 
Ae  charges  of  conspiracy,  and  I understand  that  to  be  Ae  position. 

Mr.  Gill — That  is  not  exaedy  Ae  position. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — I do  not  want  to  be  pertinacious,  but  I 
wish  to  know  what  is  die  position  and  wheAer  my  learned  friend 
asks  your  lordship  now  to  strike  out  Aesc  counts  from  Ae  inAct- 
ment. 

Mr.  Gill— I am  taking  Ae  course  of  not  askmg  for  a verAct 
on  these  counts  because  it  has  been  suggested  Aat  Acre  would  be  a 
difficulty  with  regard  to  calling  Ae  prisoners  by  reason  of  Aese 
counts  being  m Ae  inActment  For  Aat  reason  I desired  to  take 
this  course  to  avoid  any  difficulty  being  placed  m Ae  way  of  either 
of  the  prisoners,  Wilde  or  Taylor,  giving  evidence. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— You  are  entitled  to  take  Aat  course,  Mr. 
Gill,  and  I understand  you  to  say  Aat  you  do  not  ask  Ae  jury  to 
give  a verAct  of  guilty  upon  Ac  counts  of  conspiracy. 

Sir  Edward  Curke — I ask  Aat  a verdict  of  Ae  jury  of  Not 
Guilty  shall  be  taken  at  once. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— I cannot  consent  to  Aat. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — I am  endded  to  a verAct  of  Not  Gmlty 
at  one  time  or  oAer  because  Ae  prisoners  have  been  given  in 
Aarge. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— I Aink  at  Ae  present  stage  of  Ae  trial  it 
is  my  duty  to  say  Aat  I accede  to  Mr.  Gill’s  applicadon. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— Then  I say  Aat  at  some  stage  of  Ae  case 
I shall  ask  for  a verdict  of  Not  Guilty  to  be  entered  on  Aose  counts, 
227 


Oscar  Wiltlc. 


sir  Kill!  aril  Clnrkc 

aiul  I hluill  piiilMbly  tiiul  il  my  duly  LiU-i  iti  ilir  dav  in  uimiueiu 
mviii  U\i'  riiuisf  t.dvi.'ii  liv  ll\c  C'liiwu. 

Mr,  li'si'iL'i  CiniuiN  you  .inyiliiiijr  moic  lo  .i.iy,  Sir 

lidward? 

Sii'  Edwikii  C’.i.MiM-.-  No,  my  lord,  liul  1 wa.s  aliout  lo  .uldrcss 
the  jury. 


Opening-  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Sir  Euwauu  Ci  mikk-  -May  il  please  you,  my  lord,  gentlemen  of 
the  jury.  'I'hc  announecmeni  which  has  been  made  by  my  learned 
friend  Mr.  Gill  i.s  one  on  which  1 shoulil  think  it  is  my  duty  to 
comment  later  in  the  d;iy.  At  the  moment  I think  it  better  to  say 
nothing  uhrmi  it,  as  I should  like  to  weigh  the  oliservaiiniw  which 
I ilc,sire  to  make  <m  that  very  remarkable  incident  in  a veiy  remnrk 
able  trial,  I am  g.oing  lo  call  Mr,  Wihle  as  ,i  wiliu‘,s.s.  Thai 
decision  lo  e.ill  him  us  a witness  h,\s  not  been  .uriveil  ai  in  am- 
seqiieiu-e  of  the  siiiieineni  just  ni.ule  by  Mr.  Gill  Imi  1 ei'riiiinly 
fell  sirengtliened  in  iny  u-solniion  to  eidl  Mr.  Wihie  by  the  tael 
of  tlii.s  lardy  wilhdiaw.il  of  iharges  whieli,  il  ibey  were  iioi  inleiuled 
to  be  proceeded  wilb,  uiiglil  never  lo  b.ive  been  pul  in  the  indict- 
meiil  -nor  in  eoiisiqiieiire  tif  llie  siateuieiil  wbitb  my  le.iriied  friend 
Mr.  (rill  ba.s  iii.ide  witii  regard  lo  whai  lie  fell  lo  be  die  pmper 
limit.s  of  cro.ss  cxainiiiation,  limits  which,  if  ibey  b.ul  been  applied 
at  the  beginning  of  yesterday  instead  of  to-day,  would  have  saved 
the  Iroiilile  of  reading  a good  deal  of  the  cross  examination  of  Mr. 
Wilde  in  the  Quoeiisberry  ca.se  which  was  read  yesterday.  But 
that  cro.ss-cxamin.-uion  has  lieen  read,  and  tliere  are  some  topics 
in  it  on  which  I must  address  .some  observations  to  you, 

I tru.st  iliat  the  calling  of  Mr.  Wilde  will  not  materially  lengthen 
the  trial.  On  a consideration  of  the  notes  of  the  cross-examination 
read  yesterday  it  became  very  dear  to  me  lh,at  in  justice  to  Mr, 
Wilde  I should  have  asked  th.at  some  nf  tlie  notes  of  Ids  examina- 
tion-in-chief  should  be  read  to  you.  But  then  it  occurred  to  my 
mind  that  you  would  naturally  prefer  to  hear  Mr,  Wilde’s  state- 
ment in  the  witness  box  made  before  you  instead  of  being  asked  to 
rely  on  the  evidence  given  at  the  hearing  of  the  charge  of  libel.  If 
the  evidence-in-chief  were  to  be  read  at  all,  1 came  to  the  conclusion 
that  you  would  prefer  to  hear  to-day  Mr.  Wilde’s  denial  on  oath  of 
the  foul  charges  that  have  been  made  against  him.  I am  .aware 
that  that  will  entitle  Mr.  Gill  to  the  right  to  reply,  and  that  it 
will  expose  me  to  the  necc.ssity  of  having  I hat  evidence  and  my  own 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

sir  Edward  Clorke 

observations  upon  it  commented  upon  by  my  learned  friend  and 
criticized  by  him  after  my  mouth  is  closed.  But  I have  never  at  any 
time  during  my  professional  life  attached  half  so  much  importance 
to  what  is  called  the  last  word  as  some  of  the  great  advocates  who 
taught  me  my  profession  have  attached  to  it. 

With  regard  to  the  literary  part  of  the  case,  I feel  obliged  to 
make  some  observations.  My  learned  friend  Mr.  Gill,  in  opening 
the  case  for  the  prosecution,  urged  upon  you  that  it  was  your  duty 
to  dismiss  from  your  minds  all  that  you  have  heard  elsewhere,  The 
case  has  been  commented  upon  by  a large  section  of  the  press  in  a 
way  that  I think  is  disgraceful.  Such  conduct  is  calculated  to 
imperil  the  administration  of  justice,  and  is  in  the  highest  degree 
prejudicial  to  the  interests  of  the  prisoners.  Mr.  Gill  has  asked 
you  to  dismiss  from  your  minds  anything  you  may  have  seen  in 
the  newspapers.  Mr.  Gill  in  saying  that  was  quite  fair,  but  I do 
not  think  it  was  quite  lair  of  Mr.  Gill  to  have  insisted  upon  read- 
ing the  cross-examination  of  Mr.  Wilde  on  his  writings  which  you 
have  heard.  It  is  not  fair  to  judge  a man  by  his  books.  Coleridge 
said  long  ago;  “Judge  no  man  by  his  books;  a man  is  better, 
higher  than  his  books.”  Hidden  meanings  have  been  most 
unjustly  read  into  the  poetical  and  prose  works  of  my  client,  and 
it  seems  that  an  endeavour,  though  a futile  one,  is  being  made  to 
convict  Mr.  Wilde  because  of  a prurient  construction  which  has 
been  placed  by  his  enemies  upon  certain  of  his  works.  1 allude 
particularly  to  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray.  The  strange  unfair- 
ness in  this  case  has  been  that  an  attempt  has  been  made,  and  that 
attempt  was  repeated  by  the  reading  of  the  cross-examination  yester- 
day, not  to  judge  Mr.  Wilde  by  his  own  book  but  by  books  which 
he  did  not  write,  and  to  judge  him  by  an  article  which  he  did  not 
write  and  which  he  repudiated  as  horrible  and  disgusting,  There 
was  a pretence  for  such  conditions  in  the  former  trial,  when  the 
question  was  one  as  to  whether  Mr.  Wilde  was  "posing”  or  not, 
but  in  the  present  case  there  is  no  such  excuse. 

With  regard  to  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray,  it  is  a very  simple 
story  which  was  first  published  in  America  in  Lipgi»eo«’rMflga*i»<, 
one  of  the  highest  class  productions  of  American  periodical  litera- 
ture. It  was  afterwards  published  in  England,  when  Mr.  Wilde, 
yielding  to  the  suggestion  of  one  of  the  most  accomplished  critics 
of  our  age,  Mr.  Walter  Pater,  altered  one  particular  passage  that 
bore  an  unpleasant  interpretation.  It  has  since  been  in  constant 
circulation  and  on  sale  in  every  English  bookshop.  And  now  that 
passage  has  been  read  out  in  Court  to  prove  that  Mr,  Wilde  is 
229 


Oscar  Wilde. 


sir  lidword  Cinrite 

tin  iminiinil  man.  The  rictiii'e  of  Dorian  Gray  in  an  allegnry  pure 
and  simpk'.  According  to  the  rather  musty  and  far-fetched  notions 
of  the  pio.seciition,  it  is  an  impure  and  simple  allegory.  But  Mr. 
Wilde  cannot  be  judged  by  the  standards  of  other  men,  for  he  is  a 
literary  eccentric,  though  intellectually  a giant,  and  he  does  not 
profess  to  be  guided  by  the  same  sentiments  as  animate  other  and 
less  highly  endowed  men.  (Counsel  briefly  sketched  the  plot  of 
the  book,  and  continued : ] Gentlemen,  if  you  were  a committee 
sitting  to  consider  whether  that  book  was  to  be  approved,  I would 
not  have  the  smallest  difliculty  or  hesitation  in  defending  it  before 
you;  and  yet  that  book  has  been  assailed  in  cross-examination  with 
the  view  of  showing  that  its  author  must  be  an  immoral  man. 
Could  anything  be  more  unfair?  Of  all  strangely  unfair  cross- 
examinations  which  were  ever  addressed  in  a Court  of  Justice, 
the  cross-examination  addressed  to  Mr.  Wilde  on  literature,  with 
which  he  had  nothing  to  do,  was  tlic  most  unfair,  and  now  that 
cross  examination  has  licen  dragged  in  again  for  the  purpose  of 
hiassing  your  minds  against  Mr.  Wilde,  I do  not  hesitate  to 
dcnumicc  the  attempt  as  most  unfair  to  Mr.  Wilde,  anti  a.s  violating 
cvei7  canon  of  fairness  that  ought  to  be  applied  to  justice. 

Willi  regard  to  the  inihlbition  of  The  CImmekem,  1 would 
point  out  that  the  defendant  was  not  acquainted  with  the  editor, 
an  Oxford  uudcrgraehialc,  who  wrote  to  Mr.  Wilde,  as  a distin- 
guished man  of  letters,  to  contribute  something  to  its  columns. 
Being  busy  at  the  time,  Mr.  Wilde  sent  what  he  called  some 
“ Phrases  and  philosophies  for  lire  Use  of  the  Young,”  which  had 
been  used  in  some  of  his  plays  and  were  of  a paradoxical  nature, 
and  which,  in  my  submission,  were  innocent  and  harmle,ss  enough. 
In  that  publication  Mr.  Wilde  had  seen  an  article  railed  "The  Priest 
and  the  Acolyte,”  which  was  disgraceful;  and  Mr.  Wilde  was  s* 
indignant  that  he  communicated  with  the  editor  on  the  subject,  as  he 
felt  most  insulted  by  having  his  name  on  the  title-page  of  that  publi- 
cation. And  yet,  although  he  had  stated  on  oath  his  disapproval  of 
that  article,  Mr.  Wilde  was  cross-examined  on  it,  and  it  was  sought 
to  attach  stigma  to  him  in  that  connexion.  Faint  and  far  off  as 
was  the  justification  for  the  cross-examination  with  reference  to 
Dorian  Gray,  for  that  with  reference  to  “The  Priest  and  the 
Acolyte”  there  was  no  justification  whatever.  As  to  Mr.  Carson’s 
cross-examination  of  Mr.  Wilde  on  the  French  work,  "A  Rebours,” 
it  was  grossly  unfair  and  a violent  misadrainistration  of  every 
canon  of  justice.  The  question  of  the  literature  is,  therefore,  an 
entirely  different  question  from  that  which  you  have  now  to  deter- 
mine. 


330 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

sic  Ednacd  Clatke 

Now,  gentlemen,  what  sort  of  accusation  was  it  that  Mr. 
Wilde  had  to  meet?  It  was  Mr.  Wilde’s  own  act  that  brought  the 
matter  to  an  issue.  The  defendant  has  been  for  some  time  a friend 
of  Lady  Queensberry  and  her  sons.  Lord  Queensberry  has  been 
divorced  by  his  wife.  [Counsel  referred  to  certain  letters  written  by 
Lord  Queensberry  to  various  members  of  his  family.] 

Mr.  Gill— I submit  that  this  is  in  no  wax  material  to  the 
present  case.  Sir  Edward  had  the  opportunity  at  the  last  trial  of 
saying  everything  that  ought  to  have  been  said  on  the  subject,  and 
he  consented  to  a verdict  of  acquittal  being  taken  by  the  jury.  I 
now  protest,  therefore,  against  any  attadc  being  made  against 
Lord  Queensberry,  who  is  not  present. 

Mr.  Justice  Chahles— Were  the  letters  which  have  been  referred 
to  put  in  in  the  examination? 

Sir  EnwARn  Clarke— Yes,  my  lord. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— But  they  arc  not  relevant. 

Mr.  Gill— Certainly  not. 

Sir  Edwarb  Clarke— My  friend  rebuking  me  for  irrelevance  is 
rather  amusing, 

Mr,  Gill— It  is  not  intended  to  be. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— It  is  necessary  for  me  to  show  how  it  was 
that  Lord  Queensberry  was  writing  to  members  of  his  family,  and 
that  was  why  I mentioned  the  divorce.  As  long  as  those  letters 
were  written  only  to  the  family  it  was  obvious  why  Mr.  Wilde  took 
no  steps  in  the  matter,  but  the  moment  Lord  Queensberry  left 
that  objectionable  card  at  his  dub,  Mr.  Wilde  applied  for  a 
warrant  and  had  the  Marquess  arrested. 

I would  also  point  out  that  the  latest  date  mentioned  in  the 
indictment  in  which  misconduct  is  charged  against  Mr.  Wilde  is 
eighteen  months  ago.  You  will,  no  doubt,  ask  yourselves  how  it 
is  that  this  question  now  arises.  The  reason  is  that  Mr.  Wilde 
insisted  on  having  it  investigated  before  the  public.  It  was  Mr. 
Wilde’s  act,  and  Mr.  Wilde’s  act  alone,  in  charging  Lord 
Queensberry  with  libel  which  has  brought  the  matter  before  the 
public  and  placed  him  in  his  present  position  of  peril.  I myself, 
together  with  the  counsd  acting  with  me  in  the  Queensberry  case, 

231 


Oscar  Wilde. 


itir  l.Unucd  CInrke 

.iiul  luit  Mr.  Wilde,  was  re-sfiousiblc  for  the  advice  given  U)  Mr. 
Wilde  and  lor  the  course  taken  in  withdrawing  Irom  that  charge 
ol'  lihel.  It  i,*!  partly  owing  to  tint  lacl  that  1 .im  here  again  on 
Mr.  Wilde’-s  hehalf  to  meet  the  accusation  which  could  not  be 
tiled  propeily  du-n.  Men  who  have  been  charged  with  the  oflences 
alleged  against  Mr.  Wilde  shrink  from  investigadon,  and  in  my 
submis.sion  the  lact  of  Mr.  Wilde  taking  the  initiative  ol  a public 
trial  is  evidence  of  his  innocence.  Nor  is  that  all.  A few  days 
before  the  first  trial,  notice  was  given  of  certain  charges  made 
against  him  with  names  and  dales.  On  30th  March  Mr.  Wilde 
knew  the  catalogue  of  accusadons.’'  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  do  you 
believe  that  had  he  been  guilty  he  would  have  stayed  in  England 
and  faced  those  accusations?  Men  guilty  of  such  offences  suffer 
from  a species  of  insanity.  What,  then,  would  you  think  of  a 
man  who,  knowing  himself  to  be  guilty  and  that  evidence  would  be 
forthcoming  from  half-a-dozen  different  places,  insisted  on  bring 
ing  his  case  before  the  world?  Insane  would  hardly  he  the  woiil 
fr)r  it  if  Mr.  Wilde  really  had  Itecn  guilty  and  yei  faced  that 
inveiligadon. 

A guilty  man  would  also  have  listened  to  the  evidence  railed 
in  .supiiort  of  the  [ilen  of  juslifirarion  kdore  giiiiig,  as  Mr.  Wilde 
did,  frankly  Into  the  wilne.ss  Ikix  to  answer  the  nlleg.ilioiis  preferred 
in  lhal  plc.i.  Now,  gentlenien,  I .shall  have  the  advamage  of  being 
able  to  show  you  th.it  what  Mr.  Wilde  will  say  toiliiv  in  the 
witness  Iwx  he  stated  at  the  previous  trial  before  .luy  evidenre  had 
been  called  against  him.  Ii  is  a rcmiirkahle  fart  that  thcie  is  only 
one  siatemcni  in  Mr.  Wilde’s  evidence  on  lltar  nriM,sion  wliicli  the 
prosecution  has  called  a witness  10  coiitradict—thal  is,  llie  statement 
that  he  had  never  been  to  .see  Charles  Parker  at  Park  Walk,  while 
the  prosecution  has  called  a witness  who  said  that  one  night  she 
was  looking  out  of  tire  window  and  saw  a gentleman  whom  she 
recognized  as  Mr.  Wilde  getting  into  .1  hansom  cab.  To  my  mind 
tliat  is  most  significant,  and  1 hope  that  if  any  doubt  remains  in 
your  minds  as  to  whether  it  is  possible  for  you  to  convict  the 
defendant  upon  such  evidence  as  you  have  heard,  that  doubt  will 
be  at  once  removed  when  you  hear  Mr.  Wilde  deny  upon  oath 
that  there  is  any  truth  whatever  in  the  allegations  made  on  the 
part  of  the  prosecution. 

[Mr.  Grawi,  on  behalf  of  Taylor,  said  that  he  would  call  his 
client  when  die  time  arrived,  but  he  did  not  propose  to  make 
more  than  one  speech  to  the  jury.] 

A This  was  Lord  Queensberry’s  plea  of  justificatiofl.  5ee  beJow,  Appendix  A. 

2<i2 


Kvidence  for  the  Defence. 

Osuar  Wilde 

Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Oscar  Wilde,  examined  by  Sir  Edwakd  Clarke— [Witness 
recapitulated  the  details  of  his  career  as  an  author  and  dramadst, 
and  coounued;]  In  1884  I married  Miss  Constance  Uoyd,  and 
from  that  time  to  the  present  I have  lived  with  her  at  i6  Tite 
Street,  Chelsea.  I have  occupied  also  for  a time  some  rooms  at 
St.  James’s  Place,  which  I took  for  the  purpose  of  my  literary 
work,  it  being  quite  out  of  the  quesdon  to  secure  quiet  and  mental 
repose  at  my  own  house  when  my  two  young  sons  were  at  home. 
I have  heard  the  evidence  against  me  in  this  case,  and  I declare 
that  there  is  no  truth  in  any  one  of  the  allegations  of  indecent 
behaviour. 

[Counsel  referred  to  the  Queensberry  trial.]  Was  the  evidence 
you  gave  on  that  occasion  absolutely  and  in  all  respects  true?— 
Endrely  true  evidence. 

Is  there  any  truth  in  any  of  the  allegations  made  against  you 
in  the  evidence  in  this  case?— There  is  no  truth  whatsoever  in 
any  one  of  the  allegations,  no  truth  whatsoever. 

Cross-examined  by  Mr.  C.  F.  Gill— You  are  acquainted  with  a 
publication  entitled  The  Chameleon}— Nevj  well  indeed. 

Contributors  to  that  journal  are  friends  of  yours?— That  is  so. 

I believe  that  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  was  a frequent  contributor? 
—Hardly  that,  I think.  He  wrote  some  verses  occasionally  for  The 
Chameleon,  and  indeed  for  other  papers. 

The  poems  in  question  were  somewhat  peculiar? — They 
certainly  were  not  mere  commonplaces  like  so  much  that  is  labelled 
poetry. 

The  tone  of  them  met  with  your  critical  approval? — It  was  not 
for  me  to  approve  or  disapprove.  I left  that  to  the  reviews. 

On  the  last  occasion  you  were  cross-examined  with  reference  to 
two  letters  written  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas? — ^Yes. 

[After  some  search  the  letters  were  handed  up  to  the  witness.] 

You  were  asked  as  to  those  letters,  as  to  The  Picture  of  Dorian 
Gray  and  as  to  The  Chameleon}— 

You  said  you  had  read  Lord  Alfred  Douglas’s  poems  in  The 
Chameleon} — Yes. 

You  described  them  as  beautiful  poems? — I said  something 
tantamount  to  that.  The  verses  were  original  in  theme  and  con- 
struction, and  I admired  them. 

Lord  Alfred  Douglas  contributed  two  poems  to  The  Chameleon, 
and  they  were  beautiful  poems?— Yes. 

213 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Onciif  Willie 

Sir  EnwAnn  Clauke—I  do  not  want  to  make  any  diniculty,  but  1 
undersUxid  from  my  learned  friend  that  he  was  going  to  confine 
his  cross-examination  to  the  specific  charges  made  here. 

Mr.  Gul— This  is  cross-examination  as  to  credit. 

Mr.  Justice  Cham.es— I do  not  see  how  I can  interfere.  Ques- 
tions which  the  learned  counsel  thinks  should  go  to  credit  he  is 
entided  to  put. 

Cross-examination  continued — Listen,  Mr.  Wilde,  I shall  keep 
you  only  a very  short  time  in  the  witness  box.  [Counsel  read 
the  following  poem  from  The  Chameleon.\ 

“Last  night  unto  my  bed  methought  there  came 
Our  lady  of  strange  dreams,  and  from  an  urn 
She  poured  live  fire,  so  that  mine  eyes  did  burn 
At  sight  of  it.  Anon  the  floating  flame 
Took  many  shapes,  and  one  cried : I am  Shame 
That  walks  with  Love,  I am  most  wise  lo  turn 
Cold  lips  and  limbs  to  fire;  therefore  discern 
And  see  ray  loveliness,  and  praise  my  name. 

And  afterwards,  in  radiant  garments  dressed 
With  sound  of  flutes  and  laughing  of  glad  lips, 

A pomp  of  all  the  passions  pa.ssetl  along 

All  the  night  through;  till  the  white  phantom  ships 

Of  dawn  sailed  in.  Whereat  I said  this  song, 

‘Of  all  sweet  passions  Shame  is  loveliest.’  ’’ 

Is  that  one  of  the  beautiful  poems? 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— That  is  not  one  of  Mr.  Wilde’s, 

Mr,  Gill— I am  not  aware  that  I said  it  was. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — I thought  you  would  be  glad  to  say  it 
was  not. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles — understand  that  was  a poem  by  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas.  ‘ 

Mr.  Gill— Yes,  my  lord,  and  one  which  the  witness  described 
as  a beaudful  poem.  The  other  beautiful  poem  is  the  one  that 
follows  immediately  and  precedes  “The  Priest  and  the  Acolyte." 

234 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Oscar  Wilde 

Cross-examination  continued — ^Thc  first  was  “In  Praise  of 
Shame,”  concluding  with  the  words,  “Of  all  sweet  passions  Shame 
is  loveliest”?— May  I 

No!  Kindly  answer  my  questions? — Certainly. 

By  Mr.  Justice  Charles— If  you  have  any  explanation  to  add  to 
your  answer,  you  may  do  so?— I will  merely  say  this,  my  lord.  It 
is  not  for  me  to  explain  the  work  of  anyWy  else.  It  does  not 
belong  to  me.  But  the  word  “shame”  now  in  that  poem  is  a word 
used  in  the  sense  of  “modesty.”  I mean  that  I was  anxious  to 
point  out  that  “Shame  that  turns  cold  lips” — I forget  the  line 
exactly — “to  fire”  is  a quickened  sense  of  modesty. 

Cross-examination  continued— Yarn  view,  Mr.  Wilde,  is  that 
the  “shame”  mentioned  here  is  that  shame  which  is  a sense  of 
modesty? — ^That  was  the  explanation  given  to  me  by  the  person 
who  wrote  it.  The  sonnet  seemed  to  me  obscure. 

During  1893  and  1894  you  were  a good  deal  in  the  company  of 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas?— Oh,  yes. 

Did  he  read  that  poem  to  you?— Yes. 

You  can,  perhaps,  understand  that  such  verses  as  these  would 
not  be  acceptable  to  the  reader  with  an  ordinarily  balanced  mind?— 
1 am  not  prepared  to  say.  It  appears  to  me  to  be  a question  of  taste, 
temperament  and  individuality.  I should  say  that  one  man’s 
poetry  is  another  man’s  poison!  (Laughter.) 

I daresay!  The  next  poem  is  one  described  as  “Two  Loves."  It 
contains  these  lines : — 


“ 'Sweet  youth, 

Tell  me  why,  sad  and  sighing,  dost  thou  rove 
These  pleasant  realms?  I pray  thee  tell  me  sooth. 

What  is  thy  name?’  He  said,  ‘My  name  is  Love,’ 

Then  straight  the  first  did  turn  himself  to  me. 

And  cried,  ‘He  lieth,  for  his  name  is  Shame. 

But  I am  Love,  and  I was  wont  to  be 
Alone  in  this  fair  garden,  till  he  came 
Unasked  by  night;  I am  true  Love,  I fill 
The  hearts  of  boy  and  girl  with  mutual  flame.’ 

Then  sighing  said  the  other,  'Have  thy  will, 

I am  the  Love  that  dare  not  speak  its  name’.” 

Was  that  poem  explained  to  you?— I think  that  is  clear. 

There  is  no  question  as  to  what  it  means? — ^Most  certainly  not. 
235 


Osair  WiKlc. 

Oicnr  Wildt 

Is  it  Hilt  clear  that  the  love  descrilied  relates  to  iiauiral  love  and 
unnatural  love?-  No. 

What  is  the  '‘Love  that  dare  noi  .speak  its  name”? — ‘"I'he  Love 
that  dale  nut  speak  its  name"  in  this  reiuiiry  is  such  a great 
alfection  o£  an  elder  tor  a younger  man  as  there  was  between  David 
and  Jonathan,  such  as  Plato  made  the  very  basis  ot  his  philosophy, 
and  such  as  you  lind  in  die  sonnets  oL  Michelangelo  and 
Shakespeare.  It  is  that  deep,  spiritiud  allcrtion  that  is  as  pure  as  it 
is  perlect.  It  dictates  and  peivades  great  works  of  art  like  those 
ol  Shakespe.ire  and  Michelangelo,  and  those  two  letters  of  mine, 
such  as  they  :tre.  It  is  in  this  century  misunderstood,  so  much 
misunderstood  that  it  may  lie  described  as  the  “Love  that  dare  not 
spc.ik  its  name,"  :uld  on  accoimt  of  it  I am  placed  where  I am  now. 
It  is  beautiful,  it  is  fnic,  it  is  the  noblest  form  of  allection.  There 
is  nodiing  unnatural  about  it.  It  is  intellectual,  and  it  repeatedly 
exists  between  an  elder  and  ii  younger  man,  when  the  elder  man 
has  iiUelleci,  and  the  younger  man  lias  all  the  joy,  hope  and 
glamour  of  life  belore  him.  That  it  should  he  .so  the  world  does 
itol  iindersiand.  The  world  mocks  at  it  and  soineiiuies  puis  one  in 
the  pillory  for  it.  (Loud  applause,  mingletl  with  some  hisses.) 

Mr,  Jti.s-nor  CiiAitt.its  If  there  is  the  slightest  uiauifesiatiou  of 
feeling  1 shall  have  the  (iouri  cleared.  There  tmisi  he  eompleic 
silence  jireserved. 

Cross-cxiununuUm  f««/iKm/--'l'heu  theie  is  no  re.ison  why  it 
should  be  called  "Shame”?-  -Ah,  that,  you  will  see,  is  the  mockery 
of  the  other  love,  love  which  is  jc.doiis  of  frienilship  and  .says  in  it, 
“You  should  not  interfere." 

You  were  staying  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  wiili  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
at  the  heginniug  of  March,  1893?— Yes. 

And  alter  that  you  went  into  riKims?— Yes, 

I understand  you  to  say  that  the  evidence  given  in  this  case 
by  the  witnesses  c.illcd  in  support  of  the  prosecution  is  absolutely 
untrue?— Entirely. 

Entirely  untrue? — Yes, 

Did  you  hear  the  evidence  of  the  servants  from  the  Savoy?— It 
is  absolutely  untrue. 

Had  you  a quarrel  with  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  in  that  week?— 
No;  we  never  did  quarrel— perhaps  a little  difference.  Sometimes 
he  said  things  that  pained  me  and  sometimes  I said  things  that 
pained  him. 

Had  he  that  week  said  unkind  things? — I always  made  a point 
of  forgetting  whenever  he  said  anything  unkind. 

236 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Osuir  Wilde 

I Wish  to  call  your  attention  to  the  style  of  your  correspondence 
with  Lord  Alfred  Douglas? — I am  ready.  I am  never  ashamed  of 
the  .style  of  my  writings. 

You  are  fortunate,  or  shall  I say  shameless?  (Laughter.)  I 
refer  to  passages  in  two  letters  in  particular?— Kindly  quote  them. 

In  letter  number  one  you  use  the  expression  “Your  slim  gilt 
soul,”  and  you  refer  to  Lord  Alfred’s  “red  rose-leaf  lips.”  The 
second  letter  contains  the  words,  “You  are  the  divine  thing  I 
want,”  and  describes  Lord  Alfred’s  letter  as  being  “delightful,  red 
and  yellow  wine  to  me.”  Do  you  think  that  an  ordinarily  con- 
sdtuted  being  would  address  such  expressions  to  a younger  man? — 

I am  not  happily,  I think,  an  ordinarily  constituted  being. 

It  is  agreeable  to  be  able  to  agree  with  you,  Mr.  'Wilde? 
(Laughter.)— There  is  nothing,  I assure  you,  in  either  letter  of 
which  I need  be  ashamed.  The  first  letter  is  really  a prose  poem, 
and  the  second  more  of  a literary  answer  to  one  Lord  Alfred  had 
sent  me. 

In  reference  to  the  incidents  alleged  against  you  at  the  Savoy 
Hotel,  are  you  prepared  to  contradict  the  evidence  of  the  hotel 
servants? — It  is  entirely  untrue.  Can  I answer  for  what  hotd 
servants  say  years  after  I have  left  the  hotel?  It  is  childish.  I am 
not  responsible  for  hotel  servants.  I Itave  stayed  at  the  hotel  and 
been  there  constantly  since, 

There  is  no  possibility  of  mistake?  There  was  no  woman  with 
you? — Certainly  not. 

You  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  the  plea  of  justification  in  the 
Queensberry  case,  and  you  saw  the  different  names?— Yes. 

At  the  hearing  of  that  case  before  Mr.  Justice  Henn  Collins, 
except  the  hall  porter  and  yourself  no  other  witness  was  called? — 
No. 

You  had  seen  Taylor  within  a few  days  of  the  trial? — ^Ycs. 

He  was  not  called? — ^No.  He  was  subpoenaed  by  the  other 
side.  I knew  that  he  was  here. 

And  you  knew  that  while  the  counsel  for  Lord  Queensberry  was 
addressing  the  jury,  the  case  was  interrupted,  a verdict  of  “Not 
Guilty”  was  agreed  to,  and  the  jury  found  that  the  justification  was 
proved  and  the  libel  published  for  the  public  benefit? — I was  not 
in  Court. 

But  you  knew  it?— No,  I did  not.  I knew  my  counsel  had 
considered  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  a verdict  on  the  question 
as  far  as  the  literature  went,  and  it  was  not  for  me  to  dispute  their 
superior  wisdom.  I was  not  in  Court,  nor  have  I read  any  account 
of  that  trial. 


237 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oacar  Wlldi 

Wiml  is  iherc  untrue  in  the  evidence  o£  Shelley? — 1 say  tlial  his 
account  o£  what  happened  is  entirely  untrue.  It  is  true  that  he 
came  to  the  Independent  Thratre  with  me,  but  it  was  in  a box  with 
some  friends.  His  accusations  of  impropriety  are  equally  untrue. 

Do  you  see  no  impropriety  in  kissing  n boy? — In  kissing  a young 
boy,  a child,  of  course  not;  but  I certainly  do  not  think  that  one 
should  kiss  a young  man  of  eighteen. 

Then  as  to  Shelley’s  letters,  there  was  a line  in  a later  one 
which  says,  “God  forgive  the  past;  do  your  best  for  me  now.” 
Do  you  Imow  the  meaning  of  that?— Yes.  Shelley  was  in  the  habit 
of  writing  me  many  morbid,  very  morbid  letters,  which  I tore  up. 
In  them  he  said  that  he  was  a great  sinner  and  anxious  to  be  in 
closer  communion  with  religion.  I always  tore  them  up. 

Charles  Parker — what  part  of  his  evidence  is  untrue? — Where  he 
says  he  came  to  the  Savoy  and  that  I committed  acts  of  indecency 
with  him.  He  never  came  to  the  Savoy  with  me  to  supper.  It  is 
true  that  he  dined  with  me  and  tliat  he  came  Ui  St.  James's  Plice 
to  teii.  The  rest  is  untrue. 

Anything  else?— I do  not  know. 

I'hcu  Atkins— what  do  you  say  is  not  true?— It  i.s  not  tnie 
when  he  says  that  he  came  into  my  room  and  saw  me  oomniitling 
acts  of  indecency.  The  circumstances  as  to  Itis  going  to  Paris  tire 
wrong.  It  wa.s  true,  however,  that  1 met  him  at  a dinner,  met  him 
again  a day  or  two  afterwards,  and  that  within  a few  days  more  I 
went  with  him  by  the  Club  train  to  Paris;  also  that  I gave  him  a 
cigarette  case.  Schwabe  was,  as  Atkins  said,  in  Paris,  and  it  is 
true  that  Atkins  slept  in  the  room  he  described  next  to  mine. 

Did  Atkins  ever  try  to  blackmail  you?— Oh,  no,  never,  I found 
him  bright  and  amusing.  I invited  him  to  go  to  Paris  because  I 
did  not  care  to  travel  alone.  He  has  given  a grotesque  and  mon- 
strous account  of  the  dinner  party  at  the  London  restaurant. 

In  fact,  was  not  Atkins  an  agreeable  companion?— He  was 
amusing,  pleasant.  It  was  better  tlmn  being  alone. 

And  except  that  he  says  he  saw  Schwabe  in  bed  with  you,  and 
that  you  wanted  to  get  into  his  bed,  his  evidence  is  practically 
true?— Well,  I say  that  his  account  of  the  dinner  party  and  his 
description  of  how  and  why  he  met  me  were  quite  wrong.  I was 
busy  in  Paris  and  left  Schwabe  and  Atkins  to  go  about  together. 

Who  introduced  you  to  Wood? — ^Lord  Alfred  Douglas. 

Did  you  ever  take  Wood  to  Tite  Street  with  you? — It  is 
entirely  untrue  that  he  ever  went  to  Tite  Street  with  me  at  all. 

Apart  from  the  suggestions  of  indecency,  Atkins’s  statements 
are,  in  the  main,  true? — ^Yes. 

And  the  same  remark  applies  to  the  evidence  of  Wood?— Yes. 

238 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Oscar  Wilda 

You  have  no  complaint  to  make  in  regard  to  Burton?— No,  I 
do  not  know  him. 

And  these  witnesses  have,  you  say,  lied  throughout?— Their 
evidence  as  to  my  association  with  them,  as  to  the  dinners  taking 
place  and  the  small  presents  I gave  them,  is  mosdy  true.  But 
there  is  not  a particle  of  truth  in  that  part  of  the  evidence  which 
alleged  improper  behaviour. 

Why  did  you  take  up  with  these  youths? — I am  a lover  of  youth. 
(Laughter.) 

You  exalt  youth  as  a sort  of  god? — like  to  study  the  young 
in  everything.  There  is  something  fascinating  in  youthfulness. 

So  you  would  prefer  puppies  to  dogs  and  kittens  to  cats?— I 
think  so.  I should  enjoy,  for  instance,  the  society  of  a beardless, 
briefless  barrister  quite  as  much  as  that  of  the  most  accomplished 
Q.C.  (Laughter.) 

I hope  the  former,  whom  I represent  in  large  numbers,  will 
appreciate  the  compliment.  (More  laughter.)  These  youths  were 
much  inferior  to  you  in  station? — never  inquired,  nor  did  I care, 
what  station  they  occupied.  I found  them,  for  the  most  part, 
bright  and  entertaining.  I found  their  conversation  a change.  It 
acted  as  a kind  of  mental  tonic. 

Who  introduced  you  to  Taylor?— Mr.  Schwabe. 

Why  did  you  go  to  Taylor’s  rooms?— Because  I used  to  meet 
actors  and  singers  of  many  kinds  there. 

A rather  curious  establishment,  wasn’t  it,  Taylor’s?— I didn't 
think  so. 

You  saw  nothing  peculiar  or  suggestive  in  the  arrangement  of 
Taylor’s  rooms? — I cannot  say  that  I did.  They  were  Bohemian. 
That  is  all.  I have  seen  stranger  rooms. 

Sir  Edwaxd  Clakke— Is  this  on  the  conspiracy,  my  lord? 

Mr.  Giu^Those  counts  were  withdrawn.  This  is  cross- 
examination  as  to  aedit. 

Mr.  Justice  Chaeles— This  evidence  is  relevant  upon  the  points 
that  remain? 

Mr.  Gill— Certainly,  my  lord. 

Cross-examination  continued— Did  you  notice  that  no  one  could 
sec  in  through  the  windows? — No;  that  I didn’t  notice. 

He  burned  incense,  did  he  not? — Pastilles,  I think. 

239 


Oscar'  Wilde. 


Wild* 

liia'UK',  I MiRKt'si?  1 think  not.  F.iMillt's,  I slitiiiltl  s.iy,  in 
thoM'  littlt  ].tp.tin'se  things  th.u  rtm  along  roiK. 

Dill  it  .strike  you  that  thi.s  ])l.icc  tv.i.s  .it  all  peenli.ii  ? Ntit  at  all. 

Not  the  sort  of  .stiec't  yon  woulil  iisiully  vi.sit  iii?  Yon  had  no 
othci  i'fientl!.  there?~No;  this  w.is  merely  a h.iehelor's  pl.icc, 

Rather  a rough  ncighhourhood? — That  I don’t  know.  I know 
it  was  near  the  Houses  of  Parh.imcnt. 

"What  did  you  go  there  for?— To  amuse  myself  sometimes;  to 
smoke  ;t  cigarette;  for  music,  singing,  chatting,  and  tionscnse  of 
that  kind,  to  whiie  an  hour  away. 

You  never  suspected  the  relations  dial  tnight  exist  between 
Taylor  and  his  young  lriend.s? — I had  no  need  to  suspect  any- 
thing. Taylor’s  relation.s  with  his  fiicnds  appeared  to  me  to  be 
quite  normal, 

Von  have  utiendetl  to  the  evidence  ol  tlie  witness  MavorP— I 
have. 

Is  it  true  or  false?  -It  is  mainly  true,  hut  false  inlet ences 
have  heen  drawn  I'lom  it  as  from  most  of  tlie  evidence.  Truth 
niiiy  he  found,  1 believe,  tti  the  Ixiiiom  of  a well,  it  is,  tipparently, 
dillicnlt  to  find  it  in  it  court  of  law.  (Ltmgliter.) 

Nevertheless  we  enileavour  to  extract  it.  (Mine  liuighler.)  Did 
the  witness  Mavor  write  to  you  cxpuissing  a wish  to  hieak  oil  the 
aceiunititance?  -1  received  a railicr  imaceotiniahle  ami  impertinent 
letter  fiom  liim  for  wliicli  he  alicrwartls  i;xpie.ssed  giein  regret. 

Why  .should  he  have  written  it  if  your  eomlni't  liad  tiliogctlicr 
heen  hlamclcssf — I do  uot  prolcss  to  he  able  to  explain  die  conduct 
of  most  of  the  witnesses.  Mavor  may  have  heen  told  some  f.tlse- 
hood  about  me.  His  father  was  greatly  inceuseJ  at  lits  conduct  at 
thi.s  time  and,  I believe,  .attributed  his  .son’s  erratic  course  to  liis 
fricndsliip  with  me,  1 do  not  think  Mavor  altogether  to  blame. 
Pressure  was  brought  to  bear  upon  him  and  he  was  not  then  quite 
right  in  his  mind. 

Why  did  you  ask  Mavor  to  smy  all  night  with  you  at  the 
Albemarle  Hotel? — ^As  company  for  me  and  a compliment  to  him- 
self. 

Did  you  know  what  he  was?— No. 

No  occupation?— I didn’t  know. 

Wood? — ^No. 

Parker?— No. 

Scarfe? — No. 

Taylor?— I understood  he  had  private  means. 

You  never  suspected  the  relations  that  might  exist  between 
Taylor  and  his  young  friends?— I had  no  need  to  suspect  any- 
240 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Oaear  Wilde 

thing.  Taylor’s  relations  with  his  friends  appeared  to  me  to  be 
quite  normal. 

And  up  to  tlie  last  trial  nothing  had  shaken  your  faith  in 
Taylorf — Nothing. 

After  the  case  of  Lord  Queensberry  was  committed  for  trial 
did  you  not  sec  at  Calais  a boy  named  Tankard  who  used  to  be  a 
page  boy  at  the  Savoy  Hotel? — Oh,  nol 

Think  1— Do  you  mean  after  the  plea  of  justification*  was 
issued? 

You  were  at  Calais  about  that  time?— Yes.  I remember  I saw 
Tankard.  That  was  before  the  plea  was  put  in. 

Tankard  was  employed  at  the  Calais  Hotel,  and  you  were  going 
abroad  with  Lord  Alfred  Douglas? — Yes. 

Did  you  know  last  year  of  Taylor’s  arrest?— Yes.  I saw  that 
the  charge  was  dismissed  by  the  magistrate. 

That  satisfied  you?— What  satisfied  me  was  that  I did  not  see 
on  what  grounds  the  police  went  there  at  all. 

I may  take  it,  Mr.  Wilde,  that  you  see  no  reason  why  the 
police  should  keep  observation  at  Little  College  Street?— No. 

What  do  you  say  about  Alphonse  Conway?— I met  him  on  the 
beach  at  Worthing.  He  was  such  a bright  happy  boy  that  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  talk  to  him.  I bought  him  a walking  stick  and  a suit 
of  clothes  and  a hat  with  a bright  ribbon,  but  I was  not  responsible 
for  the  ribbon.  (Laughter.) 

You  made  handsome  presents  to  all  these  young  fellows?— 
Pardon  me,  I differ.  I gave  two  or  three  of  them  a cigarette 
case.  Boys  of  that  class  smoke  a good  deal  of  cigarettes.  I have  a 
weakness  for  presenting  my  acquaintances  with  cigarette  cases. 

Rather  an  expensive  habit  if  indulged  in  indiscriminately,  isn't 
it?— Less  extravagant  than  giving  jewelled  garters  to  ladies. 
(Laughter.) 

With  regard  to  your  friendship  towards  the  persons  I have  men- 
tioned, may  I take  it,  Mr.  Wilde,  that  it  was  as  you  describe,  a 
deep  affection  of  an  elder  man  for  a younger?— Certainly  not.  One 
feels  that  once  in  one’s  life,  and  once  only,  towards  anybody. 

Rc-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke— It  was  when  passing 
through  Calais  that  I recognized  die  boy  Tankard,  who  was  door- 
keeper at  the  buffet  of  the  hotel.  I merely  asked  him  how  he  was 
getting  on,  and  the  boy  replied  that  he  was  learning  French.  At 

* In  his  plea  of  justification  at  the  former  trial  Queensberry  had  alleged  that 
Wilde  had  taken  "indecent  liberties  with  one  Herbert  Tankard"  at  the  Savoy  Hotel 
in  Match,  1^3,  but  this  charge  was  not  included  in  the  indictment  of  Wilde  at 
tfiis  trial. 

Q 


241 


Oscar  Wilde, 


Osc»t  WIW« 

that  time  1 knew  nothing  ol  Lord  Queensbeity's  plea  ol'  justifka- 
tion.  I became  aware  at  one  time  that  Wood  had  some  letters  of 
mine  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  I communicated  with  Sir  (Jeorge 
Lewis.  Taylor  arranged  the  meeting  with  Wood  in  his  rooms. 

Wood  returned  them? — He  gave  me  three  letters  back.  They 
were  not  what  1 should  call  matters  of  great  consequence,  but  no 
one  likes  to  have  his  private  letters  read.  They  contained  some 
slighting  allusions  to  other  people  which  1 should  not  have  liked 
made  public.  Then  I received  an  anonymous  letter  saying  that 
Wood  had  other  letters,  and  intended  to  try  and  extort  money  by 
means  of  them.  I did  not  give  any  money  for  them  at  all,  but  I 
gave  Wood  some  money  to  enable  him  to  go  to  America. 

Had  you  anything  to  do  with  the  publication  of  the  two  poems 
by  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  in  The  Chameleon'! — No,  nothing  what- 
ever. 

Auireu  Taveok,  fXiunined  by  Mr.  J.  P.  Grain— I am  thirty- 
three  years  of  age.  I am  the  sou  of  a cocoa  manufacturer,  whose 
business  is  now  being  carried  on  us  a limilctl  liability  comp.'iny, 
Up  to  the  age  of  i6  or  ty  I wtis  cducitlcd  at  Marlborough  School, 
and  aflerwartls  I went  lo  a private  tutor  at  Preston,  near  Itrighton, 
1 then  entered  the  militia,  going  into  the  4th  Baitalion  of  the  Royal 
Tusillors,  City  of  London  Regimem.  My  original  intention  was  to 
go  into  the  army,  hut  <m  coming  of  age  in  1883  1 came  into  a 
fortune  of  X45,o““,  and  have  since  that  time  had  no  occiip.ition  hut 
have  lived  a life  of  pleasure.  My  father  died  in  1874,  and  my  uncle 
in  1883. 

I On  the  charges  of  tuLsconduci,  alleged  against  him  by  those 
who  had  given  evidence,  being  put  to  him  one  by  one,  the  witness 
denied  the  truth  of  them  strenuously  as  ‘‘Certainly  not  true,”  and 
“Absolutely  untrue."] 

Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Gill — have  no  occupation.  It  is 
untrue  that  I was  expelled  from  a public  school  for  being  caught 
in  a compromising  situation  with  a small  boy  in  the  lavatory. 
It  is  true  that  I used  to  have  a number  of  young  men  living  in  my 
rooms  and  sleeping  in  the  same  bed. 

Is  it  true  that  you  ever  went  through  a mock  marriage  with 
Mason?— Absolutely  untrue. 

Had  you  a woman's  dress  in  your  rooms?— An  Eastern  costume. 

A woman’s  dress? — Yes. 

A woman’s  wig?— I will  explain.  It  was 

Had  you  women's  stockings? — Yes. 

2A2 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Alfred  Taylor  * 

At  the  time  you  were  living  in  Chapel  Street,  were  you  in 
serious  money  difficulties?— I had  just  gone  through  the  Bank- 
ruptcy Court. 

Have  you  not  actually  made  a living  since  your  bankruptcy  by 
procuring  lads  and  young  men  for  rich  gentlemen  whom  you  knew 
to  be  given  to  this  vice?— No. 

Have  you  not  extracted  large  sums  of  money  from  wealthy 
men  by  tbeatening  to  accuse  them  of  immoralities?— No. 

You  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Parkers  in  the  St.  James’s 
Restaurant?— It  was  outside,  and  I was  introduced  to  them  by  a 
friend. 

What  did  you  give  them  your  address  for?— Well,  when  one 
makes  an  acquaintance  and  you  think  you  will  like  one  another 

Are  you  in  the  habit  of  speaking  to  young  men  in  Piccadilly?— 
I know  what  you  mean.  No. 

You  go  into  Piccadilly?— Yes,  always. 

St.  James’s?— Yes. 

Have  you  ever  accosted  men  at  the  Alhambra  or  the  Empire?— 
Never. 

Did  you  know  Mr.  Wilde  well?— Yes. 

Did  you  tell  certain  lads  that  he  was  fond  of  boys? — No, 
never. 

Did  you  know  that  he  is? — believe  he  is  fond  of  young 
people. 

Why  did  you  introduce  Charles  Parker  to  Mr.  Wild?? — I 
thought  Mr.  Wilde  might  use  his  influence  to  obtain  for  him  some 
work  on  the  stage. 

Did  you  know  a man  named  Marling  who  was  concerned  in 
the  Fitzroy  Street  raid? — Yes. 

Do  you  know  what  he  is?— I have  heard  a good  deal' 

Were  you  and  Charles  Parker  both  arrested  in  that  raid? — 
Yes,  but  we  were  discharged  from  custody. 

What  was  the  reason  for  the  dinner  at  Kettner's?— It  was  in 
honour  of  my  birthday.  After  dinner  was  over  the  Parkers  and  I 
went  home  to  my  rooms  in  Little  College  Street. 

riru..  j:j  yQ^  incense  in  your  rooms?— Because  I liked  it. 


Oscar  Wiltle. 


Allrtit  Ttybr 

Rc’esimincd  by  Mr.  Grain— The  woman',s  dress  w.as  an 
Oriental  dress  1 hail  to  go  to  a fancy  dress  Kill  at  Covent  Garden. 
It  came  from  Constantinople  and  I Ixmglu  it  from  a lady. 

The  Court  adjourned  for  luncheon. 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Defendant  Wilde. 

Sir  Edward  Clarki — May  it  please  you,  my  lord,  gentlemen  of 
the  jury.  1 would  appeal  to  you  to  set  aside  prejudice  and  to 
regard  only  the  evidence  which  has  been  laid  before  you.  Tltis  is 
a serious  and  grave  question  which  you  have  to  decide.  Can  you 
possibly  find  Mr.  Wilde  guilty  of  the  terrible  offence  with  which 
he  is  charged?  Thi.s  question  whiclr  you  have  to  decide  in  regard 
to  Mr.  Wilde  is  in  a great  degree  disdnet  from  the  question  you 
have  to  decide  with  regard  to  Tavlor. 

t would  now  make  some  ohservauims  on  the  remarkahle 
course  taken  hy  the  prosecttlioii  in  ihi.s  case,  wliieli  1 do  not 
remember  to  have  been  Uikeii  in  any  oilier  ease.  You  will  recollect, 
gentlemen,  tliai  1 made  an  objtvdon  lo  the  iiidieiment  on  tho 
ground  that  in  the  inilie.tment  lliere  were  two  sets  of  emints,  one 
set  of  counts  charging  offences  on  the  pari  of  the  defendants  and 
the  other  set  of  eotiins  eliargiug  conspitticy  helween  the  defenilants, 
and  you  will  also  recollect  that  on  one  set  of  counts  the  defendants 
could  be  called  ns  witnesses  and  on  the  oilier  .set  of  counts  they 
could  not.  The  learned  judge  has  recognized  the  inconvenience  of 
the  way  in  which  the  law  now  stands,  hut  he  said  that  the  indict- 
ment containing  those  counts  might  be  pul  to  the  jury.  I accept 
his  lordship’s  expression  of  opinion  on  the  point  loyally.  But  what 
about  the  prosecution?  Have  the  prosccudon  evidence  which 
required  the  counts  for  conspiracy  to  be  put  in  die  indictment  or 
not?  If  they  have  not,  then  why  were  those  counts  put  in  the 
indictment,  and  why  were  the  prisoners  .and  their  counsel  put  to 
the  embarrassment  Cor  three  days  of  having  to  meet  an  indictment 
upon  part  of  which  they  could  not?  I do  not  make  any  complaint 
against  my  learned  friends.  But  if  there  is  any  point  of  law  on 
the  indictment,  it  sdll  remains  in  spite  of  the  course  taken  by  the 
prosecution  in  withdrawing  the  counts  charging  the  prisoners  with 
conspiracy.  Counsel  for  the  Crown  ought  to  have  made  up  their 
minds  on  that  point  at  the  outset,  and  a cruel  hardship  has  in  con- 
sequence been  inflicted  on  Mr.  Wilde.  With  whatever  anxiety 
you  may  seek  to  separate  the  evidence  in  your  minds,  you  will 
hardly  be  able  to  do  so.  The  evidence  of  literature  which  has  been 
244 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Defendant  Wilde. 

sir  Edward  Clarka 

called  against  Mr,  Wilde  is  not  evidence  against  Taylor,  nor  is  the 
case  of  Shelley.  At  the  same  time,  the  character  of  the  young  men 
who  had  frequented  Taylor’s  rooms  is  no  evidence  against  Mr. 
Wilde.  His  lordship  will  tell  you  that  the  conversation  alleged  to 
have  taken  place  between  Taylor  and  the  Parkers  at  the  St.  James’s 
Restaurant,  when  they  first  met,  is  no  evidence  at  all  against  Mr, 
Wilde. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles — ^It  is  evidence  against  Taylor  only. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — In  disentangling  the  evidence,  therefore, 
you  will  be  in  a terrible  position  of  responsibility. 

Now,  gendemen,  passing  to  the  question  of  literature,  I cannot 
help  expressing  astonishment  that,  after  I protested  as  I did  in  my 
former  speech,  against  the  way  in  which  public  feeling  has  been 
excited  and  fanned  against  Mr.  Wilde  by  the  quotation  of  passages 
of  literature  for  which  the  defendant  was  not  responsible,  my 
learned  friend  should  have  devoted  the  whole  of  that  part  of  his 
cross-examination  which  dealt  with  the  literary  questions  to  inter- 
rogating the  witness  regarding  two  poems  of  which  the  accused 
man  is  not  the  author.  The  two  poems  are  the  work  of  some  one 
else.  The  questions  Mr.  Gill  asked  were  not  as  to  anything  Mr. 
Wilde  has  himself  written.  The  two  poems  were  written  by  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas,  and  with  them  Mr.  Wilde  had  no  more  to  do 
than  1 have,  or  you  have,  gentlemen.  What  can  be  said  about  the 
morality  of  our  poets  if  we  are  to  measure  it  by  the  writings,  not 
of  themselves,  but  of  others?  A poet  is  no  more  responsible  for 
what  others  may  have  said  than  an  artist  is  guilty  of  murder  when 
he  paints  a picture  depicting  the  murder  of  Rizzio  at  the  feet  of 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 

As  to  the  affection  which  Mr.  Wilde  has  expressed  in  the  letters 
which  have  been  put  in,  he  has  himself  described  it  as  a pure  and 
true  affection,  absolutely  unconnected  with,  alien  to,  irreconcilable 
with  the  filthy  practices  which  this  band  of  blaclcmailers  you  have 
heard  has  been  narrating.  Again,  if  Mr.  Wilde  were  guilty,  if  he 
had  not  been  innocent  in  this  matter,  would  he  not  have  recoiled 
from  being  put  in  the  witness  boxf  Yet  he  has  gone  into  the 
wimess  box,  fearless  as  to  what  might  be  produced  against  him. 
And  Mr.  ’Wilde  himself  produced  in  Court  the  first  of  the  two 
letters  which  have  been  used  against  him.  Mr.  Wilde  is  not  an 
ordinary  man.  He  is  a man  who  has  written  poetry  and  prose, 
brilliant  dramas,  charming  essays;  a man  who  from  his  youth  has 
been  trained  in  the  study  of  the  literature  of  the  world,  not  of  this 
England  of  ours  alone,  but  of  those  empires  whose  glories  are  to 

245 


Oscar  Wiltlc. 


sii  I'.dnard  Clarke 

Hi  niily  name.  I le  vvrilcs  Icltcns  in  a tone  \vhu‘l)  to  other.s  may 
.seem  hlghllown,  inllitcJ,  tataggiTau-d,  ali-surd.  Hiil  he  is  not 
a-shamed  or  afraid  to  produce  those  letters.  He  goes  into  the  witness- 
box  and  says  that  they  speitk  of  pure  love,  and  when  he  s.tys  so,  is 
he  not  to  be  believed?  I spoke  to  you  before  of  the  cowardice  of 
guilt.  I reminded  you  that  these  men— the  Woods,  the  I’arkcrs, 
the  Atkins’s,  the  whole  tribe  of  them — flouri.sh  in  so  frightful  a 
trade,  because  a man  who  has  been  tempted  into  any  .sort  of  guilt 
would  rather  give  his  whole  fortune,  rather  exile  himself  from  his 
country  than  allow  the  thing  to  be  suggested  ag.ainst  him.  When 
you  are  judging  the  evidence,  contrast  this  instinctive  shrinking  of 
the  guilty,  upon  which  these  bands  of  blackmailers  live,  with  the 
openness  with  which  Mr.  Wilde  himself  sought  to  have  the  charges 
investigated,  the  courage  that  brought  him  into  the  witness-box  in 
this  Court  to  face,  once  and  for  all,  and,  as  he  hopes  and  I hope, 
to  dispose  of  the  arcusalions  which  were  being  made  ag.iinst  him. 
When  a man  comes  forward  with  such  letters  as  these  and  says  “ I 
do  not  shrink  from  the  judgment  of  tlic  world  upon  lliese  jirodiic- 
tioiis,"  you  cannot  say  that  such  a man  is  not  to  l)c  helieved.  Has 
tlie  defendant  in  ihi,s  ra.se  not  given  the  hr, si  proof  of  his  innocence? 
Innocence  has  courage  and  faith  in  the  ultimate  jiidgineni  of  man- 
kind. 

Mr.  Wilde  Itas  never  made  tmy  .secret  of  visiting  ’■I'aylor'.s  rooms. 
He  found  there  society  whirh  aifoKled  him  variety  and  change. 
Nor  has  Mr.  Wilde  made  any  secret  of  giving  dinners  to  sonic  of 
the  witnc,s.ses.  lie  thought  that  they  were  poorly  olT  and  that  a 
good  dinner  at  a restaurant  did  not  often  come  their  way,  Only  on 
one  occasion  did  he  hire  a private  room.  The  dinners  were  perfectly 
open  and  above-board. 

1 Counsel  proceeded  to  analyse  the  evidence  given  by  Shelley, 
and  continued : ] The  case  of  Shelley  is  entirely  different  from  the 
others.  In  it  you  will  have  to  judge  between  Mr.  Wilde  and  the 
young  man.  In  cross-examining  Mr.  Wilde  the  learned  coun.sel  for 
the  Crown  persisted  in  using  the  term  "office  boy,”  perhaps  for  the 
purpose  of  annoying  Mr.  Wilde,  as  it  did,  certainly  for  showing 
that,  such  was  the  difference  in  the  po,sition  of  the  two  men,  there 
could  be  no  reasonable  explanation  of  their  going  about  together. 
The  real  position  is  that  Mr.  Shelley  is  a young  man  who  was 
making  deep  studies  in  literature  and  who  expressed  his  deep 
admiration  for  Mr.  Wilde’s  own  works.  No  man,  gentlemen,  is 
insensible  to  the  frank  and  honest  admiration  nf  a young  man  for 
any  work  of  his,  be  it  poem  or  speech.  Mr.  Wilde  wished  to 
return  the  kindness,  and  he  gave  Shelley  a ticket  for  his  play  and 
so  on.  Is  there  any  one  instance  in  which  there  has  been  the 
246 


closing  Speech  for  the  Defendant  Wilde. 

Sir  Bdward  Clarke 

slightest  attempt  at  secrecy?  Shelley  said  that  Mr.  Wilde  took  him 
into  the  bedroom,  kissed  him,  and  insulted  him.  But  nodee, 
gentlemen,  as  no  douht  you  have  done  already,  the  conduct  of  that 
young  man  when  he  went  into  the  witness-box.  He  could  scarcely 
be  held  back.  He  “had  been  insulted,  degraded,"  he  shouted;  he 
did  not  know  the  character  of  the  man,  he  said;  and  he  made  out 
that  whilst  under  the  influence  of  drink  Mr.  Wilde  has  offered  him 
an  insufferable  insult.  Yet,  though  he  showed  what  he  thought  of 
what  he  says  occurred,  he  admitted  that  he  went  the  next  night 
with  Mr.  Wilde  to  the  theatre.  Mr.  Wilde  denied  the  story 
emphatically.  Would  you,  even  if  there  were  nothing  to  support  that 
denial,  commit  a man  to  the  suffering  and  degradation  which  your 
verdict  might  mean  in  this  case?  But  there  is  much  to  support  the 
denial.  Fortunately  Mr.  Wilde  kept  the  letters  Shelley  wrote  to 
him;  and  those  letters  not  only  make  it  seem  impossible  that  the 
incident  ever  took  place,  but,  with  the  admissions  of  the  young 
man  himself,  show  that  there  were  times  when  Shelley’s  intellect 
was  affected.  [Counsel  read  the  letters  and  commented  further 
upon  them.} 

[Counsel  went  on  to  deal  with  the  Savoy  Hotel  evidence,  which 
he  considered  next  in  importance  against  Wilde.  He  pointed  out 
what  remarkable  evidence  it  was,  and  continued ; ] The  chamber- 
maid, though  a woman  whom  Mr.  Wilde  did  not  know  at  all, 
would  have  one  believe  that  Mr.  Wilde  rang  for  her  and  allowed 
her  to  go  into  his  rooms  to  light  the  fire,  whilst  there  was  lying  in 
bed  a boy  with  whom  he  had  had  improper  relations.  Then  as  to 
the  linen.  How  was  it  that  not  one  scrap  of  similar  evidence 
could  be  obtained  from  any  of  the  other  hotels  at  which  Mr.  Wilde 
had  stayed?  Why  was  it  that  none  of  the  detectives  for  the  prosecu- 
tion could  find  any  such  evidence  even  as  to  the  rooms  Taylor 
occupied,  where  in  the  course  of  twelve  months  there  must  have 
been  some  linen  sent  to  the  laundry?  Migge’s  story  is  of  the  most 
amazing  character.  He  even  admitted  that  Mr.  Wilde  was  expect- 
ing him.  Yet  he  says  that  he  opened  the  door  of  the  room,  saw 
Mr.  Wilde  dressing  on  one  side  of  the  chamber  and  a hoy  in  the 
bed  on  the  other  side  of  the  room.  How  was  it  that  no  one  could 
he  found  who  ever  saw  those  boys  either  go  into  or  come  out  from 
the  hotel? 

As  to  Parker,  Wood  and  Atkins  it  does  not  need  the  experience 
that  these  three  young  men  have  had  in  blackmailing  to  teach  them 
that  they  must  make  use  of  circumstances  which  actually  occurred 
in  order  to  suggest  others.  These  wretches  who  have  come  forward 
to  admit  their  own  disgrace  are  shameless  aeatures  incapable  of 
147 


Oscar  Wilde. 


.Sir  ndwsril  Clnrke 

one  manly  thought  or  one  manly  action.  They  arc  without  excep- 
tion blackmailers.  They  live  by  luring  men  to  their  moms, 
generally  on  the  pretence  that  a beautiful  girl  will  he  provided  for 
them  on  their  arrival.  Once  in  tlieir  clutches,  these  victims  can 
only  get  away  by  paying  a large  sum  of  money,  unless  they  are 
prepared  to  face  and  deny  the  most  dLsgraceful  chatges.  Innocent 
men  consequently  pay  rather  thtin  face  the  odium  attached  to  the 
breath  even  of  such  scandals.  They  have,  moreover,  wives  and 
children,  daughters  maybe  or  a sister,  whose  honour  or  name  they 
are  obliged  to  consider.  Therefore  they  usually  submit  to  be 
fleeced,  and  in  this  way  this  wretched  Wood  and  the  abject  Atkins 
have  been  able  to  go  about  the  West  End  well  fed  and  well  dressed. 
These  youths  were  introduced  to  Mr.  Wilde.  They  were  pleasant 
spoken  enough  and  outwardly  decent  in  their  language  and  con- 
duct. Mr.  Wilde  was  taken  in  by  them  and  permitted  himself  to 
enjoy  their  society,  I do  not  defend  Mr.  Wilde  for  this;  he  has 
unquestionably  shown  imprudence,  but  a man  ol  his  temperament 
atimul  be  judged  by  the  si.uid.u'ds  of  the  avciagc  uidividual.  Now 
these  youths  have  come  Uuwanl  to  make  these  charges  in  a coiv 
siiirucy  to  ruin  my  client,  is  it  likely  ih.ii  a man  ol  Mr.  Wilde’s 
cleverness  would  put  liimsell  so  completely  in  the  power  of  these 
harpies  us  he  would  be  if  he  were  guilty  of  only  one  tenth  of  the 
enormities  they  have  alleged  against  hinif  II  Mr.  Wilde  priicliscd 
these  acts  so  openly  and  so  llaguntly-”if  he  allowed  the  facts  to 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  so  m.my— -then  he  is  a fool  who  is  not  fit 
to  he  at  large.  If  the  evidence  is  to  Ite  credited,  these  acts  of  gross 
indecency  which  culminated  in  actual  crime  were  done  in  so  open 
a manner  ns  to  compel  the  attention  of  landladies  and  housemaids. 
I am  not  myself — and  I thank  Heaven  for  it — I am  not  versed  in 
the  acts  of  those  who  commit  these  crimes  ag.iin.sr  nature.  1 do  not 
know  under  what  circumsunices  they  can  be  piactised.  But  I 
believe  that  this  is  a vice  which,  because  of  the  horror  and  reputa- 
tion it  excites,  because  of  the  fury  it  provokes  against  those  guilty 
of  it,  is  conducted  with  die  utmost  possible  secrecy. 

I respectfully  submit  that  no  jury  can  find  a man  guilty  on  the 
evidence  of  these  tainted  witnesses.  Those  three  witnesses,  Charles 
Parker,  Wood  and  Atkins,  witnesses  for  the  Crown,  have  admitted 
their  participation  in  such  practicc,s  as  ought  to  disentitle  their 
evidence  to  the  slightest  credence.  You  will  never  forget,  for  few 
juries  have  ever  seen  such,  the  scene  dial  happened  in  the  witness- 
box  on  Saturday.  You  noticed  how  Atkins  met  those  questions  of 
mine  with  steady  and  stolid  denial.  This  young  man  denied  that 
he  had  ever  been  charged  at  a police  station  with  attempting 
248 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Defendant  Wilde. 

sir  Edward  Clarke 

blackmail.  Did  the  police  know  who  Atkins  was,  and  his  shameful 
history?  Was  it  the  public  prosecutor  alone  who  was  ignorant  of 
Atkins’s  character?  And  if  he  were  not,  if  he  knew  of  thesa 
incidents  in  that  shameful  record  of  Burton  and  Atkins,  what  was 
the  meaning  of  the  Crown  calling  Atkins  into  the  wimess-box  for 
his  evidence  to  be  accepted  as  if  it  were  untainted?  Those  who 
conduct  criminal  prosecutions  have  a duty  towards  the  defendant 
as  well  as  to  the  Crown  and  the  public.  It  deepens  one’s  borror 
that  Mr.  Wilde  was  at  the  peril  of  these  persons,  to  think  that  had 
the  trial  been  finishing  that  day  the  denials  made  by  Atkins  might 
have  had  their  effect  upon  the  jury. 

It  was  through  detailed  information,  which  I received  in  anony- 
mous letters,  that  I was  enabled  to  convict  the  witness  Atkins  on 
Saturday  of  the  attempted  extortion  which  he  so  persistently  denied 
until  confronted  with  the  police  officers  who  had  taken  him  into 
custody.  It  is  strange  that  the  public  prosecutor,  if  he  knew  of  this 
witness’s  real  character,  should  have  permitted  Mr.  Gill  to  tender  his 
evidence  against  the  accused.  Wood,  Parker  and  Atkins,  too,  have 
shared  the  profits  of  blackmailing,  and  I protest  that  it  should  not 
be  accepted  on  the  uncorroborated  evidence  of  men  like  them  that 
before  1892  they  were  uncorrupted. 

To  support  the  charge  the  evidence  ought  to  be  convincing- 
evidence  which  you  believe  to  be  honest,  untainted  and  in  all 
degrees  true.  Can  you  say,  gendemen,  with  regard  to  any  one 
piece  of  the  evidence,  which  has  attacked  the  conduct  of  Mr. 
Wilde,  that  those  epithets  can  be  applied?  You  are  dealing  with 
matters  which  arc  alleged  to  have  taken  place  a long  time  ago, 
and  consequendy  it  is  impossible  that  witnesses  can  be  called  by 
Mr.  Wilde,  who  can  now  only  meet  the  allegations  with  the  state- 
ment that  they  are  false.  I submit  that  the  evidence  called  by  the 
prosecution  is  not  reliable  testimony,  that  the  principal  witnesses 
for  the  prosecution — whose  evidence  is  wholly  uncorroborated — 
belong  to  a wretched  gang  of  blackmailers,  and  that  Shelley  has 
admitted  that  his  mind  was  disordered  at  the  time  he  wrote  the 
letters  that  have  been  produced. 

I know  with  what  extreme  difficulty  it  is  that  juries  are  able  to 
efface  from  their  recollection  things  which  bias  their  judgment, 
and  to  address  themselves  only  to  that  evidence  which  is  sound  and 
true.  Before  you  deal  with  this  case,  therefore,  I implore  you  to 
make  the  effort;  and  let  your  judgment  be  affected  only  by  those 
witnesses  with  regard  to  whom  you  can  say  with  a clear  conscience 
that  you,  as  honourable  men,  are  entitled  to  be  guided  by  true  and 
honest  and  honourable  testimony.  Fix  your  minds  firmly  on  the 
249 


Ovscar  Wilde. 


.Mr,  Justice  Cliarlet 

ifi.w  thilt  ought  to  be  applietl  to  evidence  before  you  can  condemn 
.1  fellow  man  on  a charge  like  this.  If  you  guard  yourselves  from 
these  piejudices  which  have  floated  about — they  have  been  dis- 
siiKiied  to  some  extent  by  the  incidents  of  the  last  few  days,  but 
from  them  all  it  is  impossible  that  the  atmosphere  should  be 
absolutely  clear — then  I trust  that  the  result  of  your  deliberations 
will  be  to  gratify  those  thousands  of  hopes  which  are  hanging  upon 
your  decision,  .and  will  clear  from  this  fearful  imputation  one  of 
our  most  renowned  and  accomplished  men  of  letters  of  to-day, 
and,  in  clearing  him,  will  clear  society  from  a stain.  (Applause.) 

[The  prisoner  Wilde,  who  seemed  visibly  affected  by  this 
speech,  was  seen  to  write  a note,  which  was  handed  down  to  his 
counsel.  I 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Defendant  Taylor. 

t Mr.  CiiiatN,  on  behalf  of  Taylor,  sulunittcd  that  there  was  really 
no  c.isc  against  his  client.  An  endeavour  had  hern  made  In  prove 
that  'I'uylor  was  in  the  habit  of  introducing  to  Wilde  youths  whom 
he  (Taylor)  knnv  to  he  amenable  to  the  practices  of  Wilde  timl  that 
he  got  p.iid  (or  thi.s  degr.uliiig  woik.  The  attempt  to  e,stahli,sh  this 
disgusting  iis.«iciation  had  eompletely  hrolcon  down.  Taylor  was, 
it  t.s  true,  actiuainicd  with  the  barkers,  Wood  and  Aikliw.  He  had 
seen  them  constantly  in  restaurants  and  music  halls,  .and  they  had 
.at  first  forced  themselves  upon  him  and  thus  got  acquainted  with  a 
man  they  had  designed  for  blackm.ail.  The  I’.vkers  were  the  only 
two  witnesses  who  claimed  to  have  been  introduced  by  Taylor  to 
Wilde,  and  all  the  resources  of  the  Crown  and  of  the  eminent 
solicitors  employed  by  Lord  Queensberry  had  been  unable  to  pro- 
duce any  corroboration  of  the  charges  of  misconduct  made  by  these 
wimesses. 

It  might  be  asked,  counsel  continued,  how  had  Taylor  got  his 
livelihood?  He  was  perfectly  prepared  to  answer  that  question, 
Having  run  through  his  own  large  fortune,  he  was  living  at  Little 
College  Street  on  an  allowance  from  his  late  father’s  firm.  If 
Taylor  had  been  employed  by  Wilde,  where  was  the  proof  of  any 
kind  of  payment?  Not  a farthing  piece,  in  money  or  in  value,  had 
passed  between  the  two.  Was  it  in  the  least  degree  likely  that  such 
scenes  as  the  witnesses  described,  with  such  apparent  candour  and 
such  wealth  of  filthy  detail,  could  have  taken  place  in  Taylor’s 
apartments?  It  was  incredible  that  a man  could  thus  risk  almost 
certain  discovery.  Against  Taylor  die  evidence  adduced  was  tainted 
from  beginning  to  end,  and  counsel  claimed  for  his  client  the 
250 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Defendant  Taylor. 

Mr,  Qraiii 

benefit  of  the  doubt.  He  (counsel)  confidently  looked  for  the 
acquittal  of  his  client  who  was  guilty  of  nothing  more  than  having 
made  imprudent  acquaintances  and  having  trusted  too  much  to 
the  descriptions  of  themselves  given  by  others.] 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

Mr.  GiLt— May  it  please  you,  my  lord,  gentlemen  of  the  jury, 
it  has  been  argued  by  my  learned  friend  Sir  Edward  Clarke,  that 
no  man  conscious  of  guilt  would  have  dared  to  set  the  crimmal  law 
in  motion  against  Lord  Queensberry.  As  to  that,  I say  you  cannot 
teU  what  was  upon  the  defendant  Wilde’s  mind,  or  how  far  he  was 
nusled  by  the  expectation  that  the  case  would  take  an  entirely 
different  course.  'The  fact  remains  that  from  the  first  Lord  Queens- 
berry undertook  to  justify  the  libel.  The  charges  now  made 
against  the  defendants  form  only  a part  of  the  allegations  contained 
in  the  plea  of  justification,  the  reason  being  that  some  of  the  charges 
alleged  were  outside  the  jurisdiction  of  Bow  Street  Police  Court. 
Sir  Edward  Clarke  has  made  a courageous  and  brilliant  defence  of 
the  prisoner  Wilde,  and  incidentally  has  made  an  admission,  of 
whicn  I now  take  full  advantage,  that  he  was,  in  part  at  least, 
responsible  for  the  course  taken  on  Mr.  Wilde’s  behalf  at  the 
previous  trial,  and  that,  in  part  at  least,  it  was  due  to  that  circum- 
stance that  he— my  learned  friend— is  now  appearing  on  behalf  of 
the  accused.  So  far  as  the  original  charge  made  by  Lord  Queens- 
berry goes,  I have  not  found  it  necessary  to  cross-examine  the 
defendant  Wilde,  since  Mr.  Wilde’s  own  counsel  admitted  that  the 
justification  was  proved  and  that  it  was  for  the  public  benefit  that 
the  libel  was  published. 

As  to  the  letters  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  it  seems  to  me  that 
they  breathe  an  unholy  passion.  [Having  analysed  the  evidence  in 
detail,  counsel  continued : ] Why  should  any  of  the  witnesses  have 
sought  to  give  false  evidence?  What  end  could  they  serve?  What 
good  could  they  get  by  it?  In  a case  of  this  kind  I contend  that 
corroboration  is  of  comparatively  minor  importance,  for  it  is  not 
in  the  least  likely  that  acts  of  the  kind  alleged  would  be  practised 
before  a third  pa^  who  might  afterwards  swear  to  the  fact.  There- 
fore, when  the  witnesses  describe  what  transpired  when  they  and 
the  prisoners  were  alone,  I do  not  think  that  corroboration  can 
possibly  be  given.  There  is  not  likely  to  be  an  eye-witoess  of  the 
facts.  But  in  respect  to  many  things  the  evidence  is  corroborated. 
Whatever  the  character  of  these  youths  may  be,  they  have  given 
evidence  as  to  certain  facts,  and  no  cross-examination,  however 
251 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  (iltl 

ailioit,  Iwuvcver  vigorous,  h.is  shukcii  iht'if  ttsimicmy  or  causal  them 
to  waver  about  tliat  wliicli  is  evidently  (irmly  implanted  in  their 
ineinuries.  A man  may  conceivably  come  forward  and  commit 
perjury.  But  these  youths  are  accusing  themselves,  in  'accusing 
another,  uf  shameful  and  intamuus  acts,  and  this  they  would  hardly 
tlo  if  it  were  not  die  truth.  Wilde  has  made  presents  to  these 
youthii,  and  it  is  noticeable  diat  the  gifts  were  invariably  made 
after  he  had  been  alone,  at  some  looms  or  other,  with  one  or  another 
of  the  lads.  In  these  circumstances  even  a cigaictte  case  is  corro- 
boration. My  learned  friend  has  protested  against  any  evil  con- 
struction being  placed  upon  these  gifts  and  these  dinners;  hut,  in 
the  name  of  common-sense,  what  other  construction  is  possible? 
When  we  hear  of  a man  like  Wilde,  presumably  of  refined  and 
cultured  tastes,  who  might  if  he  wished,  enjoy  the  society  of  the 
best  and  most  cultivated  men  and  women  in  London,  accompany- 
ing to  Paris  and  other  places  on  the  Continent,  uninformed, 
unintclluctual,  and  vulgar  ill-brctl  ymitlts  of  the  type  of  Charles 
Parker,  tlien  in  Heaven’s  name  what  are  wc  to  iliink?  All  those 
visits,  all  tliose  dinticrs,  all  those  gifts  arc  corrtiboratimi.  'I'hey 
serve  to  confirm  the  truth  of  die  .slal<’mciil,s  mtidc  by  the  yiiiiihs 
who  amfessed  to  tltc  cmnmis.sion  of  acts  for  wliicli  the  things  1 
have  iittoted  were  positive  anil  acituil  [v.iynient. 

Against  die  respecl.tbllity  and  credibility  of  Shelley  nolliing 
can  po,ssibly  be  said.  I le  st.tnds  entirely  aptirt  from  the  mheis.  I.s  it 
suggested,  then,  th.it  out  of  horrible  wickedness  or  in  .some  sort 
of  dream  he  has  come  to  penure  himself  against  Mr.  Ottcar  Wilde 
who,  apart  from  these  charges,  liad  done  him  nothing  hut  kindness? 

In  the  case  of  the  witness  Sidney  Mavor,  it  is  clear  that  Wilde 
has  in  some  way  continued  to  disgust  this  youth.  Some  acts  nf 
Wilde,  either  towards  himself  or  towards  others,  h.avc  olTcndetl  him. 
Is  not  the  letter,  which  Mavor  addres,scd  to  the  prisoner  desiring 
the  cessation  of  their  friendship  corroboration? 

Mr.  Justice  CHARLES—Although  the  evidence  of  this  witness  is 
clearly  of  importance,  yet  he  has  denied  that  the  defendant  Wilde 
has  been  guilty  of  impropriety;  and  I do  not  think,  therefore,  that 
the  counts  in  reference  to  Mavor  can  stand. 

[After  some  further  discusaon  these  counts  (Nos.  20  and  21) 
were  struck  out  of  the  incliciincnt.  | 

Mr.  Gtii— At  all  events  there  is  nothing  to  support  the  sugges- 
tion of  Sir  Edward  Clarke  that  Shelley,  who  has  .shown  himself 
252 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

Mr.  GUI 

to  be  an  absolutely  respectable  and  trustworthy  witness,  was  in  a 
disordered  state  of  mind;  while  as  to  those  witnesses  who  have  been 
described  as  blackmailers,  they  can  have  no  conceivable  object  in 
bringing  these  accusations  against  the  accused,  unless  the  charges 
they  have  made  are  true  in  substance  and  in  fact. 

I Counsel  staled  that  he  would  not  ask  the  jury  for  a verdict 
on  the  conspiracy  counts  in  the  indictment  in  order  to  prevent  any 
embarrassment  to  Sir  Edward  Clarke,  who  had  complained  that 
he  was  affected  in  his  defence  by  these  counts  being  joined  with 
the  others.  He  concluded ; ] It  is  your  duty,  gentlemen,  to  express 
your  verdict  without  fear  or  &vour.  You  owe  a duty  to  society, 
however  sorry  you  may  feel  yourselves  at  the  moral  downfall  of  an 
eminent  man,  to  protect  society  from  such  scandals  by  removing 
from  its  heart  a sore  which  cannot  fail  in  time  to  corrupt  and  taint 
it  all. 

Second  Trial.  Fifth  Day— Wednesday,  1st  May,  1895. 

Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Mr.  Justice  Chari.es— Gentlemen,  the  prisoners  stand  indicted 
before  you  for  having  committed  acts  of  indecency;  and  secondly 
the  prisoner  Taylor  is  charged  with  having  procured  the  commission 
of  those  acts  by  the  prisoner  Wilde.  As  the  charges  were  originally 
framed,  the  indictment  also  contained  counts  against  the  prisoners 
for  conspiracy  and  agreeing  together  that  those  acts  should  be  com- 
mitted. At  the  close  of  the  case  for  the  prosecution,  however,  the 
learned  counsel  who  conducted  -it  informed  me  that  he  did  not 
propose,  having  regard  to  the  evidence  which  had  been  given,  to 
insist  on  the  charges  of  conspiracy.  I thought  myself  that  the 
learned  counsel  took  a wise  course,  inasmuch  as  it  relieves  the  Court 
and  relieves  you  from  a position  which  might  have  been  an 
embarrassing  one;  for  as  long  as  the  counts  for  conspirticy  stood  in 
the  indictment  along  with  die  other  counts,  this  curious  state  of 
things  resulted  from  the  present  state  of  the  law — that  the  prisoners 
were  competent  witnesses  and  able  to  be  put  into  the  winess-box 
before  the  jury  on  certain  charges  made  against  them,  but  not  on 
others.  The  result  would  have  been  that,  had  the  learned  counsel 
for  the  prosecution  not  adopted  the  course  which  he  did  when  the 
defendants  were  called  before  you  yesterday,  they  would  have  been 
able  to  give  evidence  on  certain  counts  but  not  on  others.  There- 
fore I ttok  that  the  prosecution  were  well  advised  in  not  proceed- 
ing with  the  charges  of  conspiracy.  Having  listened  to  the  evidence 

253 


Oscar  Wilde. 


sir  IMword  CUiUo 

I am  sure  I do  noL  know  why  tliose  couiiis  were  ever  inscitcd  .a 
all.  Il  was  a highly  inainvenient  counc  to  join  in  the  indictment 
counts  upon  which  the  ddendants  could  he  called  to  give  evidence 
and  counts  upon  which  they  could  not.  Sir  Edward  Claike  asked 
me  at  once  to  deal  with  the  nutter,  but  I did  not  think  it  my  duty 
to  do  so,  because  I tliought  diat,  although  the  deEendants  were  com- 
petent witnesses  on  one  set  of  counts  and  not  on  the  other,  the 
counts  might  lawfully  be  joined.  In  the  result  the  defendants  are 
entitled  to  be  acquitted  on  the  charges  of  conspiracy,  and  also  on 
two  counts  against  Taylor,  to  which  I need  not  further  allude,  but 
as  to  which  there  is  no  evidence  proper  for  your  consideration.* 

I ask  you  to  free  yourselves  from  prejudice  and  apply  your  minds 
only  to  the  evidence  you  have  listened  In  in  this  Court.  For  weeks 
it  has  been  impossible  to  open  a new.spaper  without  reading  some 
reference  to  this  case,  and  c.spccially  to  the  prisoner  Wilde,  and  I 
accordingly  entreat  you  to  put  away  from  yoiii  minds  everything 
you  may  have  read  nhout  the  tlcfcnd.uits  and  lo  apidy  your  minds 
fairly  lo  the  consideration  of  die  case  as  il  has  been  prcscnietl  before 
you  by  the  witnesses  calletl  on  the  iwrl  of  the  pmsectilion.  1 hope 
that  you  will  not  allow  any  prrconceiveil  opinions  lo  weigh  with 
you  in  trying  two  per.sons,  bodi  of  good  ciluciiiion,  one  of  them 
being  a man  of  high  intellceiual  gifitt. 

In  il  case  of  ilii.s  kind,  where  acts  of  inileeeney  arc  alleged  to 
have  been  committed  not  against  the  will  of  the  persons  who  ate 
called  tiixin  to  prove  them,  the.se  iwitsons  are  .iccompliccs  in  the 
wicked  act.  By,  I will  not  say  die  law  of  England,  hut  by  the 
wholesome  practice  of  our  Courts  for  nearly  two  hundred  years, 
no  defendant  can  be  convicted  by  a jury  upon  die  uncorroborated 
evidence  and  testimony  of  an  accomplice  in  his  crime,  This  is  a 
wise  rule  of  practice.  If  it  were  otherwise,  to  what  terrible  dangers 
might  not  innocent  people  be  exposed  by  designing  or  spiteful 
adversaries?  In  this  case,  therefore,  had  there  been  no  corrobora- 
tion of  the  testimony  of  the  young  men  to  whose  evidence  you  have 
listened,  it  would  have  been  my  duty  at  once  to  have  told  you  that 
you  ought  to  acquit  the  defendants.  I am  sure  that  you  will  agree, 
if  you  reflect  upon  it  for  a moment,  that  the  uncorroborated  evidence 
of  an  accomplice  should  not  be  acted  upon,  and  therefore  in  this 
case  I have  anxiously  had  to  watch  the  evidence  which  has  been 
given  to  see  if  the  witnesses  were  corroborated  in  some  way  or  other. 
I am  clearly  of  opinion  that  there  is  corroboration  of  all  the  witnesses 
in  the  sense  that  the  law  requires — not  corroboration  by  eye- 

* Counts  i6  and  20  which  chained  Taylor  with  attcmptini;  lo  commit  indecent 
acts  wid>  Wood  and  Mavor  respectively. 

354 


Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Hr.  JiutUe  Charles 

■witnesses;  it  would  be  idle  to  expect  that,  and  the  law  does  not 
require  it — but  there  is  corroboration  as  to  the  acquaintanceship  o£ 
the  defendants  with  the  witnesses,  and  as  to  many  particulars  of  the 
narrative  they  gave,  which  would  render  it  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  withdraw  the  case  from  your  consideration.  I need  not  go 
through  the  various  circumstances  now  which  constitute  cormbora- 
tion  and  which,  therefore,  make  it  my  duty  to  leave  the  cases  of 
all  the  witnesses  who  have  been  called  to  your  consideration.  Not 
only  are  some  of  the  witnesses  accomplices,  but  Charles  Parker, 
Wood  and  Atkins  have  been  properly  described  by  Sir  Edward 
Clarke,  in  the  eloquent  speech  whiA  he  addressed  to  you  yesterday 
on  behalf  of  the  prisoner  Wilde,  as  persons  who  levied  blackmail, 
and  you  will  remember  what  they  have  admitted  themselves. 
Atkins,  in  the  wimess-box,  in  your  hearing,  was  out  of  his  own 
mouth  convicted  of  having  told  the  grossest  and  most  deliberate 
falsehoods.  These  witnesses  require,  therefore,  not  only  corrobora- 
tion, but  also  that  you  should  remember  their  characters. 

I do  not  propose  to  deal  at  any  length  with  the  incidents  of  the 
Queensberry  trial.  Yesterday  you  heard  the  long  examination  and 
cross-examination  of  Wilde  on  the  hearing  of  the  charge  of  libel 
brought  by  him  against  Lord  Queensberry  read.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  die  evidence  whiA  Wilde  has  given  in  the  present 
trial  has  been  given  under  oath,  and  in  order  thoroughly  to  appre- 
ciate the  effect  of  what  Wilde  said  in  the  witness-box  yesterday, 
you  must  bear  in  mind  what  he  said  when  he  was  examined  and 
cross-examined  on  the  former  occasion.  You  all  now  know  how 
that  matter  arose — it  was  in  consequence  of  the  charge  of  libel 
brought  by  Wilde  against  Lord  Queensberry,  who  put  in  a plea  of 
justification.  Lord  Queensberry  pubhshed  a card  which  un- 
doubtedly libelled  Wilde,  and  the  latter  at  once  initiated  pro- 
ceedings for  criminal  libd,  which  led  to  the  trial  on  which  w« 
are  at  this  moment  embarked.  It  is  a point  in  Wilde's  favour  that 
he  hirasdf  challenged  inquiry  into  the  accusatbns  made  against 
him.  The  libel  rSerred  to  occurrences  in  1892,  but  it  was  not 
published  until  1895.  After  Wilde  had  been  examined  and  cross- 
examined,  but  before  any  evidence  had  been  called  for  the  plea  of 
justification.  Sir  Edward  Clarke,  who  represented  Wilde  in  that 
case,  ultimately  withdrew  from  the  prosecution,  and  said  that  he 
did  not  desire  anything  but  a verdict  of  Not  Guilty  to  be  given 
for  Lord  Queensberry,  and  that  die  publication  of  the  card  was  for 
the  public  benefit.  'That  verdict  is  not  binding  in  the  slightest 
degree  upon  you,  the  jury  to  which  I am  now  addressing  mysdf, 
because  it  was  a verdict  on  the  libel,  and  it  was  delivered  at  the 
*55 


Oscar  Wilck*. 


Mn  Justice  Uhirles 

inst.mfe  of  Sir  lidwiird  Clarke  fnr  the  reasons  explained  and  with- 
out any  witness  being  called  in  support  of  die  plea  of  justification. 
[His  liifd-ship  proceeded  to  explain  that  the  reason  why  such 
offences  as  the  plea  of  justification  alleged,  in  connexion  with  the 
lads  Conway  and  Grainger,  were  not  included  in  the  present  indict- 
ment was  because  those  offences  had  occurred,  if  at  all,  outside  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  Court.  He  continued : ] On  the  conclusion  of 
the  Qucenslicrry  trial  Wilde  and  Taylor  were  arrested  to  answer 
the  charges  on  which  they  now  await  your  verdict. 

A very  large  portion  of  the  evidence  of  Wilde  at  the  Queensberry 
trial  was  devoted  to  what  Sir  Edward  Clarke  has  called  “the 
literary  p.trt  of  the  case.”  it  was  attempted  to  show  on  the  cross- 
examination  of  Wilde  on  works  which  he  had  published— and 
especially  in  regard  to  a book  called  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray 
— that  Wilde  was  a man  of  mast  unprincipled  character  in  regard 
to  the  relations  of  men  to  boys.  The  whole  of  the  cross-examination 
was  read  yc.storday,  and  it  was  divided  into  two  parts— the  first  .as 
10  his  liciiig  the  aiitlior  of  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray,  and  the 
second  with  regard  to  a magazine  called  The  Chameleon,  pulilished 
in  the  amiiinn  of  in  regard  to  wliieh  it  was  alleged  that 
Wilde  liiul  given  his  name  (o  ilic  most  aliotninable  doeirines. 

h'ir.si,  witii  regard  ui  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray,  I myself  have 
not  read  llic  wliole  of  it  and  1 must  .stipixste  that  you  have  not, 
Hut  extnieta  from  it  have  been  read  to  you,  and  you  have  been 
placed  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke  in  posscs,sion  of  the  story  of  the  book, 
You  have  been  told  chat  it  is  a .story  of  a youth  of  vicious  character, 
whose  face  does  not  reveal  the  abysses  of  wickedness  into  which  lie 
has  fallen,  but  a picture  painted  by  an  artist  friend  revealed  all  the 
consequences  of  the  young  man's  passion.  I myself  own,  and  I 
think  it  my  duty  at  once  to  say  so,  that  I do  not  think  that  in  a 
criminal  case  you  ought  to  base  any  unfavourable  opinion  on  the 
fact  that  Wilde  is  the  author  of  The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray, 
Coleridge,  a great  writer,  whom  Sir  Edward  Clarke  quoted  yester- 
day, has  said  : “Judge  no  man  by  his  books.”  I would  rather  say: 
“Judge  no  man,  confound  no  man  with  the  characters  he  has 
created.”  If  an  imaginative  writer  puts  into  his  novel  some  con- 
summate villain  and  puts  into  the  mouth  of  that  man  sentiments 
revolting  to  humanity,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  he  shares  them. 
You  may  critieixe,  if  you  please,  the  work,  but  it  would  never  do, 
if  the  author  of  the  work  is  charged  with  crime,  to  say,  ‘‘Oh,  you 
created  that  monster  in  your  last  novel  and  you  put  into  his  mouth 
sentiments  revolting  to  humanity.”  That  would  not  be  fair, 
While  some  of  our  most  distinguished  and  noble-minded  writers 
256 


CMARUS  C.ILI 
iif  *‘Spy” 


Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Mr.  Iiutlce  Ckarla 

have  passed  long  lives  in  producing  the  roost  wholesome  literatuie 
—such  as,  for  instance,  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  Charles  Di^ens,  who 
never  wrote,  so  far  as  I know,  a single  offensive  line— it  is  unfor- 
tunately true  to  say  that  other  great  writers,  who  were  perfectly 
noble-minded  men  themselves,  have  somehow  or  other  given  to  the 
world,  especially  in  the  eighteenth  century,  works  which  it  is 
painful  for  persons  of  ordinary  modesty  and  decency  to  read.  It 
would  be  unfair  therefore,  when  you  are  trying  a man,  to  allow 
yourselves  to  be  unfavourably  influenced  against  him  by  the  cir- 
cumstance that  he  has  written  a work  of  which  you,  in  as  far  as 
you  have  heard  any  extracts  from  it,  may  disapprove. 

With  regard  to  The  Chameleon,  the  only  connexion  between 
Wilde  and  that  magazine  is  that  it  is  prefaced  by  two  or  three  pages 
of  “Phrases  and  Philosophies  for  the  Use  of  the  Young,”  written  by 
the  accused,  of  which  it  is  sulficient  to  say  that  some  are  amusing, 
some  cynical,  and  some  of  them— if  I may  be  allowed  to  criticize 
them  myself— silly;  but  wicked,  no,  not  wicked  in  the  sense  of  it 
bemg  an  inference  which  you  ought  to  draw  that  Wilde  was 
capable  of  having  committed  the  alleged  offence  into  which  we 
are  now  inquiring,  Mr.  Gill  did  not  say  so,  nor  did  the  learned 
counsel  for  Lord  Queensberry  say  so,  but  what  they  said  was  this— 
they  pointed  to  a story  in  this  paper  called  “The  Priest  and  the 
Acolyte,"  a filthy  narrative  of  a most  disgusting  character,  of  which 
the  author,  who  signed  himself  “X,”  ought  to  be  thoroughly 
ashamed.  Wilde  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  that  story  nor 
with  the  paper,  except  that,  at  the  request  of  a friend,  he  prefaced 
the  paper  with  some  expressions  from  works  of  his.  That  is  all 
Wilde  knew  about  the  paper.  To  impute  to  him  anything  in  it  is 
quite  absurd.  To  judge  him  by  another  man’s  works  which  he  had 
never  seen  would  be  not  only  highly  unjust  but  utterly  absurd. 
Then,  too,  it  must  be  rememberai  tiiat  The  Chameleon  was  pub- 
lished only  last  autumn,  long  after  the  date  of  the  offences  alleged 
against  Wilde. 

So  much  for  the  literary  part  of  the  case,  as  it  has  been  called, 
and  I shall  not  say  anything  more  about  it  with  the  exception  of 
an  observation  to  which  I now  come.  In  The  Chameleon  tiiere  are 
two  poems  which  it  is  alleged  have  an  immoral  tendency,  and  it  is 
further  alleged  that  Wilde  has  approved  of  them,  so  that  this 
becomes  more  material  to  the  issue  which  you  are  trying.  You 
must  carefully  inquire  into  what  Wilde  said  in  reference  to  those 
two  poems. 

[His  lordship  read  the  sonnet  “In  Praise  of  Shame,”  and  also 
quoted  a few  lines  from  the  poem  entitled  “Two  Loves.”  He  then 


Oscar  Willie. 

Mr.  JuKlIcB  CliirlM 

bt‘R:iu  to  fciul  Wiklc'!,  Icticr  to  LotJ  Alla'il  Doiigl.i!,  bejtinning 
"Vour  .‘.omici  ii.  quite  lovely,”  evidently  under  tlic  imiires.'iioft  that 
Wilde  was  tlieie  reEcrring  to  die  sonnet  in  T/ie  Chameleun  which 
he  (liis  lordship)  had  just  read.  Sir  liowAnu  Curke  at  once  rose 
to  point  out  that  the  letter  bore  a date  long  antecedent  to  the  publi- 
cation o£  Thf  Chameleon,  and  his  lordship  admitted  tlwt  he  was 
mistaken.  His  lordship  thereupon  read  the  remainder  of  this  letter; 
also  the  whole  o£  the  other  letter  from  Wilde  to  Douglas  beginning 
“Dearest  of  .all  Boys,”  which  xvas  written  from  the  Savoy  Hotel  in 
1893,’  and  continued;]  I question  if  Mr.  Carson  was  right  in 
regarding  these  letters  as  of  a horrible  and  indecent  character.  Mr. 
Wilde  himself  has  said  that  he  is  not  in  any  sense  ashamed  of  either 
of  these  two  letters,  and  that,  although  they  bre.ithe  the  language  of 
afleciion  and  passion,  it  is  not  an  impure  or  unnatural  passion. 
One  of  these  letters,  he  said,  was  a “kind  of  prn.se  poem,"  or  sonnet, 
and  he  said  th.ni  to  his  mind  there  was  nothing  unnatural  or 
impure  in  the  pa.ssi«niite  affection  of  a man  for  a youdr;  and  that 
the  love  referred  10  in  the  poem  “Two  Dives"  was  like  the  love  of 
n.ivid  and  jonaihan,  that  it  wa.s  (he  love  wliirli  I’lato  railed  the 
beginning  <iC  wisdom;  it  was  a love  pcrfttily  pure,  surh  a,s  is  spoken 
of  in  some  of  the  sonnets  of  Shake-spiaire.  In  the  ):Eieni  “Iii  Praise 
of  Shame,"  Wilde  said  that  the  word  shame  was  used  in  the  sense 
of  modesty,  in  the  sense  that  was  felt  hy  our  lirsl  iiareiils  in  the 
Garden  of  liden.  You  must  weigh  this  in  your  miinls,  genllemen. 
Furthermore,  ilicrc  is  this  to  be  said  about  the  lir.si  letter  of  suffi. 
dent  importance  undouhiedly  to  be  worthy  of  your  attention.  It 
was  produced  liy  Wilde  himself  in  his  cxaminaiion-in-chicf  which 
took  place  here  last  session;  and  so  it  was  .said  on  his  behalf  by  hi,s 
counsel,  “Give  him  credit  for  not  being  ashamed  of  it.”  I under- 
stand tliat  die  other  letter,  the  one  written  from  the  Savoy  Hotel, 
was  produced  during  the  defendant’s  cross-examination, 

Mr.  Gan— That  is  so,  my  lord. 

Mr.  Justice  Chaei.es— Leaving  this  part  of  the  case  behind,  I 
will  now  deal  in  order  of  date  with  the  charges  contained  in  the 
indictment. 

I will  first  call  your  attention  to  the  offence  which  is  alleged  to 
have  been  committed  with  Edward  Shelley  at  the  beginning  of  1893. 
It  is  a most  anxious  task  for  you  to  make  up  your  minds  as  to 
whether  this  charge  is  made  out  or  not.  Shelley  is,  undoubtedly, 
notwithstanding  what  he  may  have  said  as  to  his  having  been  in  a 


See  above,  p.  133. 


258 


Charge  to  the  Jury, 

Mr.  Justice  Charieg 

semi-state  of  intoxication,  in  the  position  of  an  accomplice;  but 
his  evidence  is  corroborated.  If  his  evidence  had  not  been  corro- 
borated, I should  have  had  to  withdraw  this  charge  from  your  con- 
sideradon.  On  the  other  hand,  Shelley  is  not  tainted  with  the  sort 
of  offences  with  which  Wood,  Atkins  and  Parker  are  connected,  and 
in  that  sense  he  is  an  untainted  witness.  Shelley  was  employed  in 
the  publishing  office  of  Messrs.  Mathews  and  Lane  at  a salary  of 
fifteen  shillings  to  eighteen  shillings  a week.  He  has  been 
described  as  an  office  boy,  but  it  is  clear  from  his  letters  that  he  is  a 
person  of  some  education,  with  literary  tastes  and  a consuming 
admiration  for  the  works  of  the  defendant  Wilde.  Mathews  and 
Lane,  being  Wilde’s  publishers,  Wilde  made  the  acquaintance  of 
this  lad  and  took  him  to  dine  at  the  Albemarle  Hotel,  where,  Shelley 
declares,  indecencies  took  place  between  them.  You  are  the  best 
judges  of  the  demeanour  of  this  witness,  gentlemen;  he  certainly 
appeared  in  the  witness-box  in  a very  excited  state.  His  testimony 
rather  indicates  that  the  acts  which  he  alleged  against  Wilde  were 
committed  against  his  will;  but  that  can  hardly  be  so  having  regard 
to  what  followed,  for  within  the  same  week  he  went  a second  time 
to  the  Albemarle,  besides  going  to  more  than  one  theatre  with 
Wilde.  The  prisoner  Wilde  has  positively  denied  the  story  of  the 
indecencies,  although  he  said  it  was  true  that  he  was  interested  in 
the  lad  and  went  about  with  him  tn  some  extent.  Shelley  has  sworn 
that  he  wrote  a letter  to  the  accused  saying  he  would  have  no  mote 
to  do  with  a man  of  Wilde’s  morality,  and  this  witness  has  been 
allowed  to  give  to  the  best  of  his  recollection  the  contents  of  that 
letter.  That  letter  Wilde  denied  ever  having  received.  Other 
letters,  however,  were  forthcoming  in  which  Shelley  addressed 
Wilde  in  familiar  terms,  such  as  "My  dear  Oscar.”  In  some  of 
them  he  even  begged  for  material  assistance.  How  does  that  fit  in 
with  Shelley’s  statement  that  before  this  time  Wilde  had  taken 
unwelcome  liberties  with  him?  Can  you  reconcile  it,  too,  with  the 
positive  denials  of  Wilde  at  such  a suggestion? 

[His  lordship  read  several  letters  from  Shelley  to  Wilde,  mostly 
of  a morbid  and  hysterical  character,  and  continued : ] It  is  a very 
anxious  part  of  your  task  to  account  for  the  tone  of  these  letters. 
SheUcy  has  accounted  for  their  cone  by  adopting  the  suggestion  that 
his  mind  had  became  disordered.  But  would  that  suggestion 
account  for  his  making  such  nauseous  admissions  as  his  charge 
against  Wilde  involved?  I feel  bound  to  say  thaq  though  there  is 
evidence  of  great  excitability  in  Shelley’s  correspondence,  to  suggest 
that  it  shows  the  witness  did  not  know  what  he  was  saying  is  to 
exaggerate.  However,  the  serious  responsibility  of  accepting  or 
rejecting  Shelley’s  evidence  must  rest  with  you,  and  it  is  for  you  to 
259 


Oscar  WiUic. 


Me,  Justice  ChtrlM 

draw  your  own  conclusions.  But  why  should  he  tell  this  shameful 
■Story  at  all  unless  it  were  true? 

1 pass  next  to  the  case  of  Alkin.s.  Atkins  is  now  twenty  years 
of  age.  He  was  introduced  to  Taylor  by  a young  man  named 
Schwabe  in  1892.  Atkins  met  Wilde  and  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  at 
dinner  in  a private  room  at  the  Cafd  Florence,  at  which  Taylor 
was  also  present,  and  he  alleges  that  at  that  dinner  Wilde  asked 
him  to  go  to  Paris  with  him  as  his  private  secretary.  Atkins  agreed, 
and  they  went  two  days  later,  occupying  rooms  m the  Boulevard 
des  Ciipucines.  Atkins  spent  the  evening  of  their  arrival  at  the 
Moulin  Rouge  which,  I gather  from  the  evidence,  is  a place  where 
immoral  women  congregate.  Atkins  alleges  that  on  returning  in 
the  early  hours  of  die  morning,  he  found  Wilde  and  Schwabe 
occupying  the  same  bed,  and  that  the  next  morning— or  rather, 
later  that  same  morning— Wilde  made  improper  overtures  to  him, 
which  he  rejected.  On  their  return  to  London  Atkins  says  that 
he  saw  Wilde  at  Tile  Street,  and  was  asked  to  say  noihing  about 
the  visit  to  Paris.  In  December,  1893,  when  he  was  .sickening  for 
smallpox,  he  was  visited  by  Wilde  at  a room  in  Osmiburgh  Street, 
which  Atkins  shared  with  a man  iwmctl  Burton.  The  eliarge  in 
reference  to  Atkins  was  not  in  reference  to  what  was  alleged  to 
have  occurred  in  Paris.  1’hat  was  beyond  the  jurisdieiioii  of  the 
Court.  The  charges  ref  cried  to  the  alleged  agreement  of  Taylor 
and  Wilde  nt  the  Florence  Hotel  to  get  hold  of  tlie  lad  for  immoral 
purposes.  Wilde's  account  of  the  matter  wa.s  that  he  did  meet  the 
youth  at  dinner,  and  that  he  took  him  to  Paris  with  him  at  the 
request  of  Schwabe,  who  had  promised  to  take  him  over.  Wilde 
was  him.sclf  going  to  Paris  on  literary  business,  but  has  denied 
that  Atkins  went  in  any  way  as  his  secretary,  Atkins  was  a most 
reckless,  unreliable,  unscrupulou.s,  and  untruthful  witness.  He  had 
the  impudence  to  deny  in  cross-examination  that  he  and  the  man 
named  Burton  were  ever  taken  ta  Rochester  Row  Police  Station  for 
a gross  case  of  blackmailing.  But  it  turned  out  that  the  witness 
had  told  the  grossest  of  falsehoods— a falsehood  so  gross  that  you 
would  be  justified,  if  you  think  fit,  in  declining  to  act  on  any  of  Ids 
evidence.  Atkins  admitted  that  on  loth  June,  i8gi,  he  and  Burton 
were  taken  to  the  police  station,  where  the  gentleman  who  gave 
them  into  custody  refused  to  charge  them.  Many  other  charges 
have  been  made  against  Atkins.  Mr.  Gill  has  said  that  Atkins 
may  be  a blackmailer,  but  that  there  is  no  suggestion  that  he  has 
ever  tried  to  blackmail  the  prisoner.  Therefore,  I invite  you  to 
accept,  in  spite  of  Atkins’s  admissions,  the  story  of  the  dinner  at 
360 


Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Mr.  Juitice  CharlM 

the  Florence  and  the  trip  to  France.  But  of  course  it  is  for  you  to 
decide  how  much  of  Atkins’s  evidence  you  may  safely  believe. 

I now  pass  on  to  the  charges  alleged  against  Wilde  with  two 
unknown  boys  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  in  the  month  of  Match,  1893, 
when  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  was  also  staying  in  the  hotel  for  a 
week.  Repulsive  as  were  the  details  given  by  the  hotel  servants 
as  to  what  they  alleged  had  taken  place  more  than  two  years 
previously,  I feel  bound  to  go  into  them  with  as  much  minute 
detail  as  I have  in  the  other  parts  of  the  evidence.  I would  ask  you 
to  be  careful  in  considering  the  evidence  of  the  chambermaid,  Jane 
Cotter,  and  the  masseur  Migge,  and  the  interpretation  you  put 
upon  it.  [His  lordship  analysed  this  evidence,  and  continued:] 
To  my  mind  it  seems  strange  that,  if  what  the  servants  alleged  is 
true,  there  was  so  little  attempt  at  concealment.  Wilde  ringing 
for  the  chambermaid  to  light  the  fire,  and  leaving  the  door  open  to 
the  hotel  masseur,  who  seems  to  have  entered  without  objection, 
does  not  appear  very  much  as  if  improper  practices  had  been  going 
on  in  Mr.  Wilde’s  room.  However,  if  the  hotel  servants  were 
telling  the  truth,  then  Wilde’s  denial  that  boys  had  ever  been  in 
his  bed  at  the  Savoy  must  be  untrue,  and  it  is  for  you  to  say  on 
which  side  the  balance  of  credibility  inclints. 

I do  not  wish  to  enlarge  upon  this  most  unpleasant  part  of  this 
whole  unpleasant  case,  but  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  remind  you 
as  discreetly  as  I can  that,  according  to  the  evidence  of  Maty 
Applegate,  the  housekeeper  at  Osnahurgh  Street  where  Atkins  used 
to  lodge,  the  housemaid  there  had  objected  to  making  the  bed  on 
several  occasions  after  Wilde  and  Atkins  had  been  in  the  bedroom 
alone  together.  'There  were,  she  affirmed,  indications  on  the 
sheets  that  conduct  of  the  grossest  kind  had  been  indulged  in.  I 
think  it  my  duty  to  remind  you  that  there  may  be  an  innocent 
explanation  of  these  stains,  though  the  evidence  of  Jane  Cotter 
certainly  affords  a kind  of  corroboration  of  these  charges  and  of 
Atkins’s  own  story. 

Conung  now  to  the  evidence  given  by  the  witness  Alfred  Wood, 
it  seems  that  Wood  made  the  acquaintance  of  Taylor  in  1893.  He 
spent  three  weeks  with  Taylor  in  his  rooms  at  Little  College 
Street,  and  at  the  end  of  a month  made  Wilde’s  acquaintance. 
How?  Not  through  an  introduction  by  Taylor,  but  through  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas,  who  sent  him  to  meet  Wilde  at  the  CaK  Royal. 
They  went  together  m the  Cafi  Florence,  dined  together  and  then 
drove  to  Wilde’s  house  at  The  Street,  where.  Wood  alleged,  mis- 
conduct occurred.  There  were  other  meetings,  and  Wilde  bou^t 
him  a silver  watch  and  chain,  and  at  various  times  gave  him 


Oscar  Wiklc. 


Ml,  Justice  Charles 

money.  Wiklc’.s  account  of  .til  tliis  is  veiy  dilTetent.  Wilde  said 
that,  ^kiod  liiid  aiiplied  Ui  Loid  Alfred  DiiUj>l:is  tor  a.s.slstance  in 
getting  liiin  employment  as  a clerk.  Lord  Alfred,  who  was  at 
Salisbury,  wrote  to  Wilde,  asking  him  to  do  what  he  could  for  the 
lad,  and  at  the  .same  time  telegraphed  to  Wood  to  introduce  him- 
selE  to  Wilde  at  the  tlafe  Royal,  which  Wilde  said  Wood  did. 
Yon  must  judge  for  yourselves  for  what  purpose  the  introduction 
wa.s  effected.  Sir  Edward  Clarke  has  described  Wood  as  a member 
of  the  rcguhir  society  of  blackmailers.  It  is  certain  that  after  a 
visit  to  America  Wood  was  concerned  with  Allen  and  Parker  in 
sharing  ^300,  which  was  extorted  from  a gentleman  who  had  been 
cattght  with  Parker.  The  manner  o£  Wood’s  going  to  America  is 
important.  Wood’s  own  story  was  that  he  wanted  to  get  away  from 
the  evil  company  into  which  he  had  fallen,  and  that  Wilde  gave 
him  /30  to  take  him  to  America.  Hut  there  is  (he  extraordinary 
cirrumslauce  that  at  the  .siime  interview  some  letters  of  Wilde’s, 
which  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Wtaul,  and  which  Wilde  was 
very  anxious  to  gel  hack,  were  restored  to  Wilde,  One  letter, 
however,  was  in  the  po.sse.ssiim  of  Allen,  who  had  taken  it  from 
Wood’s  [loekct,  and  .sulMetpieiiily  Allen  emleavoiired  to  extort 
money  from  Wilde  for  it,s  siirremler.  After  he  was  in  America 
Wood  wrote  to  'Caylor  t “'I'el!  Oscar  he  can  semi  me  a draft  for  an 
Fsister  egg  if  he  likes."  Mr,  Oill  has  said  of  Wood,  us  of  Atkins, 
that  Wood  did  not  seem  to  have  endeavoured  to  hlackmail  Wilde. 
Wood  lia,s  given  a pretty  complete  history  of  hiimelf,  and  of  his 
veracity  you  must  judge,  It  is  for  you  in  consider  what  can  have 
been  the  inner  meaning  of  the  transactbns  between  the  two. 

1 turn  now  to  the  charges  made  directly  against  Alfred  Taylor, 
the  otlter  defendant.  Taylor  seems  to  be  a man  of  good  family 
and  education,  but  he  has,  on  his  own  admission,  led  a life  of 
idleness  and  run  through  a fortune  of  £43,000.  Taylor  is  charKd 
with  acts  of  indecency  with  botli  Charles  and  William  Parker. 
According  to  Taylor’s  own  account  he  was  introduced  to  the  Parkers 
by  a friend  outside  the  St.  James’s  Restaurant,  and  learned  that 
they  were  valet  and  groom  respectively,  and  both  out  of  a place. 
Parker,  on  the  other  hand,  declares  that  he  and  his  brother  were 
in  the  bar  of  the  St.  James’s  Restaurant  when  Taylor  spoke  to 
them,  talked  of  the  money  to  be  made  in  a certain  way,  and 
offered  to  introduce  them  to  Wilde.  They  were  first  taken  to 
Taylor’s  rooms  at  Litde  College  Street. 

It  has  been  alleged  that  this  prisoner  virtually  turned  his  apart- 
ments into  a bagnio  or  brothel,  in  which  young  men  took  the  place 
of  prostitutes  and  that  his  character  in  this  regard  is  well  known 
a£a 


Charge  to  the  Jury, 

Mr.  JustlM  Charles 

to  those  who  are  secretly  given  to  this  particular  vice.  One  of  the 
offences  imputed  to  Taylor  has  reference  to  Charles  Parker,  who 
has  spoken  of  the  peculiar  arrangement  of  the  rooms.  There  were 
two  bedrooms  in  the  inner  room  with  foiding  doors  between  and 
the  windows  were  heavily  draped,  so  that  no  one  from  the  opposite 
houses  could  possibly  see  what  was  going  on  inside.  Heavy  curtains, 
it  was  said,  hung  bdore  all  the  doors,  so  that  it  could  not  be  possible 
for  an  eavesdropper  to  hear  what  was  proceeding  inside.  There 
was  a curiously  shaped  sofa  in  the  sitting  room,  it  was  asserted, 
and  the  whole  aspect  of  the  room  resembled  a fashionable  resort 
for  vice.  [His  lordship  repeated  in  detail  the  description  given 
by  various  witnesses  of  the  way  in  which  the  rooms  were  furnished 
and  decorated,  of  the  burning  of  incense  or  perfumes,  and  of  the 
presence  of  feminine  garments  and  gold  brooches  in  the  rooms. 
He  continued!]  There  were  frequent  tea  parties  there,  at  which 
Wilde— who  said  that  the  rooms  struck  him  as  being  Bohemian, 
but  not  strange^was  present.  The  attention  of  the  police  seems 
to  have  been  attracted  to  the  place,  and  after  a time  they  kept  it 
under  observation.  Taylor  has  denied  that  he  invited  “Piccadilly 
young  men”  to  his  rooms,  or  that  he  himself  accosted  men  at  the 
Alhambra  or  the  Empire.  It  has  been  shown,  however,  that  both 
the  Parkers  went  to  these  rooms,  and  further  that  Charles  Parker 
received  of  the  blackmail  extorted  by  Wood  and  Allen. 

The  8ih  March  was  Taylor’s  birthday,  and,  according  to  his  own 
statement,  he  was  invited  by  Wilde  to  dine  with  him  at  a restautant, 
Kettner’s  or  the  Solfcrino,  and  to  bring  with  him  any  friends  he 
liked.  The  dinner  did  not  take  place,  however,  till  loth  March, 
when  Taylor  took  the  two  Parkers  with  him  and  introduced  them 
to  Wilde.  Now,  the  evidence  of  Charles  Parker  is  tainted,  like  that 
of  Wood  and  Atkins,  but  it  is  to  some  extent  confirmed  by  the 
evidence  of  his  brother,  William  Parker,  against  whom  no  charges 
of  blackmailing  have  been  made.  Both  the  Parkers  described  in 
detail  and  with  circumstance  a luxurious  meal,  and  declared  that 
Wilde,  after  paying  for  the  dinner,  said  of  Charles  Parker,  “This 
is  the  boy  for  me.”  William  Parker  saw  no  more  of  Wilde,  but 
accuses  Taylor  of  indecent  acts  at  Little  College  Street  and  at 
Chapel  Street.  That  charge  was,  however,  not  made  when  he  first 
gave  evidence  against  the  accused,  but  only  when  he  was  recalled 
for  the  purpose  at  a subsequent  hearing  at  the  Police  Court. 

Some  parts  of  Charles  Parker’s  evidence  are  also  corroborated 
by  other  witnesses.  There  is,  for  instance,  to  connect  Wilde  and 
Taylor  further  with  Charles  Parker,  the  evidence  of  Mrs.  Margery 
Bancroft  that  she  had  seen  both  prisoners  at  Parker’s  lodgings  in 

263 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr,  Justice  CliBilet 

Park  Walk,  C’liclstM.  Put  Wilde  lus  deniftl  on  uatli  that  he  ever 
was  at  Park  Walk  in  his  life.  He  admitted  that  this  Parker  had 
been  to  his  rootiw  at  St.  Jaiiies’s  Place,  liut  he  dctiicd  the  titterl) 
indeseribahlc,  filthy  action,  which  Parker  .said  took  place  there, 
just  a.s  he  denied  that  he  ever  took  Parker  to  the  Savoy  Hotel,  or 
that  he  was  guilty  of  miscraiduct  there.  Charles  Parker  also  alleged 
acts  of  indecency  against  the  prisoner  Taylor,  in  whose  company  he 
w,is  a I rested  on  the  occasion  of  a raid  on  a house  in  Fitzroy  Street. 
This  goes  to  show  that  they  were  in  the  habit  of  associating  with 
those  suspected  of  offences  of  the  kind  alleged.  Both,  however, 
were  on  that  occasion  discharged,  and  afterwards  Parker  enlisted 
in  the  army  and  went  away  from  London.  It  is  quite  manifest 
that  Charles  Parker  is  of  a low  class  of  morality. 

Thai,  gentlemen,  concludes  the  various  charges  made  in  this 
aa.se,  and  I have  very  little  more  to  say  to  you,  It  is  important 
Ki  remember  that  oilier  witnesses  have  been  called  by  the  prosecu- 
lion  who  have  uul  charged  either  prisonei  with  niiscoiulnrt.  Sidney 
Mavor,  who  stayed  witli  Taylor  and  mei  Wilde  and  Lord  Allred 
Dmiglas  at  dinner  and  stayed  all  night  at  the  Alliem.u’le  lintel, 
entirely  denieil  tliat  any  misconduct  had  ever  taken  jiI.iit.  With 
reference  to  ilie  i.ssues  now  liefore  you  Mavor’.s  eviilcnee  has  little  or 
no  vnhte  except  as  showing  how  he  liecame  actinainted  with  Wilde 
and  Taylor.  So  tar  as  it  goes,  it  is  rather  in  favour  of  Wilde  than 
otherwise,  and  certainly  nothing  indecent  ha.s  heeu  proved  against 
that  witness, 

1 have  had  to  sum  up  tins  case  to  you  with  some  minuteness 
because  of  its  importance  to  the  community  at  large  and  its  gravity 
to  the  accused.  I now  submit  it  to  you  in  the  confident  hope  that 
you  will  do  justice  to  yonrselve,s  on  the  one  hand  and  to  the  two 
defendants  on  the  other.  It  is  important  tliat,  if  you  think  that 
the  practices  alleged  have  been  proved,  you  should  fearlessly  say 
so;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  of  vast  importance  that  people 
should  not  be  convicted  of  acts  which  they  have  not  committed. 
The  prisoner  Wilde  has  the  right  to  ask  you  to  remember  that  he 
is  a man  of  highly  intellectual  gifts,  a person  whom  people  would 
suppose  to  be  incapable  of  such  acts  as  arc  alleged.  Taylor,  though 
nothing  has  been  said  about  his  abilities,  has  been  well  brought  up, 
and  he  too  belongs  to  a class  of  people  in  whom  it  is  difficult  to 
iiriaguie  sucli  an  offence.  At  Ac  same  time,  you  must  deal  with  the 
evidence  fearlessly,  remembering  the  prisoners’  position  on  the  one 
hand  and  your  duty  to  the  public  on  the  other.  If  you  feel  you 
cannot  act  on  the  evidence  of  the  witnesses,  you  should  say  so;  but 
a6^ 


Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Hr,  Juitlee  ChtrUt 

if  you  feel  constrained  to  believe  that  evidence,  you  must  alto 
fearlessly  say  so. 

You  are  required  to  say  whether  the  defendant  Wilde  committed 
the  acts  of  indecency  with  which  he  has  been  charged;  whether  the 
defendant  Taylor  procured  the  commission  of  those  acts;  and 
thirdly  whether  Taylor  committed  acts  of  indecency  with  the  lads 
named  Parker,  I ask  you  to  form  your  opinion  on  the  evidence  and 
give  the  case  your  careful  consideration. 

[His  lordship  put  the  following  questions  to  the  jury,  which 
were  written  down  and  handed  to  the  foreman : ] 

(1)  Do  you  think  that  WUde  committed  indecent  acts  with 
Edward  Shelley  and  Alfred  Wood  and  with  a person  or 
persons  unknown  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  or  with  Charles 
Parker? 

(2)  Did  Taylor  procure  or  attempt  to  procure  the  commission 
of  these  acts  or  of  any  of  them? 

(3)  Did  Wilde  and  Taylor  or  either  of  them  attempt  to  get 
Atkins  to  commit  indecencies? 

(4)  Did  Taylor  commit  indecent  acts  with  Charles  Parker  or 
with  William  Parker? 

The  Foreman— May  we  retire,  my  lord? 

Mr.  Justice  Charles — Certainly,  gentlemen. 

The  JoRir  retired  to  consider  their  verdict  at  twenty-five  minutes 
to  two.  They  returned  into  Court  at  a quarter-past  five. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles — Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I have  received 
a communication  from  you  to  the  effect  that  with  the  exception  of 
the  minor  question  whiA  1 put  to  you  in  regard  to  Atkins  you  are 
unable  to  arrive  at  an  agreement. 

The  Foreman— That  is  so,  my  lord.  We  cannot  agree  upon 
three  of  the  questions  you  submitted  to  us. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— Is  there  any  prospect  that  if  you  retired 
to  your  room — ^you  have  not  been  inconvenienced,  you  know, 
because  I ordered  what  you  asked— and  continued  your  delibera- 
tions a little  longer  you  would  be  able  to  come  to  an  agreement  at 
least  on  some  of  the  questions? 

265 


Osrnr  Wilde. 


Mr,  Jnxtlce  Chirlei 

The  Foreman- 'I  pul  cluu  also  to  my  (fllow-jurymen.  We  have 
wnsidcred  the  iiucstion  Cor  three  hours,  iiiul  llte  only  result  we  liavc 
(ome  to  is  that  we  cannot  agree. 

Mr.  Justice  Charees—You  are  not  agreed,  I find,  as  regards 
any  of  the  other  questions  which  I left  you.  Is  there  anything 
which  you  desire  to  ask  me  with  reference  to  the  case  which  you 
think  would  assist  you  in  further  deliberating  upon  your  verdict? 

The  Foreman— It  would  be  useless,  my  lord.  We  cannot  agree 
on  any  of  the  sub-divisions  of  questions  (i)  and  (4). 

Mr.  Justice  Cuaki.es— I am  very  unwilling  to  do  anything  at 
any  time  which  should  look  like  compelling  a jury  to  deliver  a 
verdict.  You  have  lieen  very  long  in  deliheration  over  this  matter, 
and  no  doubt  you  have  done  your  very  Ire.st  to  arrive  at  agreement 
on  the  questions.  On  the  other  Iwiid,  the  inconveniences  of  another 
tri.il  are  very  great,  and  if  you  thought  there  was  any  prospect  of 
agreement,  after  deliberating  further,  1 would  a,sk  you  to  do  so. 

Tlie  Foreman  -My  lord,  I fwr  there  is  no  clitincc  of  agreement, 

Mr,  JusTtcE  CiiARUis-  That  king  so,  I do  not  feel  justified  in 
detaining  you  any  longer. 


Verdict 

Sir  Edward  Ciarkb— I wish  to  apply,  my  lord,  that  a verdict 
of  “Not  Guilty"  may  be  entered  on  the  counts  in  the  indictment 
upon  which  no  evidence  has  been  offered. 

Mr.  JustiQE  Chaeles— I thought  I had  already  taken  the  neces- 
sary steps  for  that  to  be  done.  Sir  Edward  Clarke,  when  I informed 
the  jury  in  the  course  of  this  morning  that  I should  direct  an 
acquittal  upon  the  counts  on  which  no  evidence  had  been  offered. 
Those  are  the  counts  of  conspitacy  and  those  which  charged  Taybr 
with  certain  acts. 

Mr.  Glut— I wish  w oppose  that,  my  lord,  on  the  grounds  that 
the  opinion  of  the  jury  has  not  been  asked  on  those  counts.  If  the 
jury  is  to  be  discharged,  I will  ask  your  lordship  to  discharge  them 
wiAout  a verdict  of  any  kind  in  the  matter. 

266 


Verdict. 


Mr,  Justice  Chtrics 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — That  cannot  be  done,  my  lord.  I am 
entitled  to  a verdict  upon  the  counts  on  which  no  evidence  has 
been  ^ven  before  the  jury.  I need  hardly  point  out  to  your 
lordship  that  on  the  ground  of  convenience  as  well  as  of  right 
that  verdict  ought  to  be  entered. 

Mr.  Gill — Sir  Edward  is  not  quite  right  in  saying  that  no 
evidence  was  given  on  those  counts. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles — have  already  directed  the  jury  to  return 
a verdict  of  acquittal  on  the  charges  of  conspiracy  and  also  on  four 
counts  relating  to  Mavor  and  Wood.  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
defendants  are  entitled  to  have  such  a verdict  put  upon  the  record. 
Unformnateiy  the  really  material  matters  that  have  occupied  the 
Court  for  so  many  days  arc  the  matters  on  which  the  jury  have 
failed  to  agree. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — I wish  to  have  that  entered.  We  are 
entitled  to  it. 

Mr.  Gild— I think  there  is  a misapprehension  as  to  the  course 
taken  with  regard  to  those  conspiracy  counts.  It  was  not  that 
evidence  was  not  offered  upon  them.  Evidence  was  given  which 
would  have  had  a bearing  on  those  counts  in  the  course  of  the 
case,  and,  of  course,  they  had  a direct  bearing  with  respect  to  the 
other  charges.  All  that  I said  was  that  I did  not  desire  a verdict 
on  those  counts. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— I am  quite  aware  of  the  way  you  have 
put  it,  Mr.  Gill.  You  said  at  die  close  of  the  prosecution  that  you 
elected  to  ask  the  jury  to  answer  questions  to  the  other  counts, 
but  that  election  having  been  made  at  the  time  when  the  defendants 
were  given  in  charge  of  the  jury,  it  seems  to  me  that  it  entitles  him 
to  have  a verdict  of  “Not  Guil^’’  upon  the  record.  I do  not  think 
it  is  a matter  of  substantial  importance,  but  subject  to  what  was 
said  to  me  as  to  the  criminal  practice,  it  seems  to  me  that  that  is 
the  right  course  to  take;  and  I should  say  the  same  with  regard 
to  the  counts  on  which  Taylor  is  charged,  to  which  I have  alluded — 
counts  i6  and  ao.  I must  further  direct  that  the  same  course  be 
taken  with  regard  to  the  tenth  and  eleventh  counts  as  I havd 
ordered  to  be  taken  with  regard  to  the  conspiracy  counts  and  the 
counts  as  to  Mavor  and  Wood.  The  jury  being  of  opinion  that 
Wilde  and  Taylor  did  not  attempt  to  get  Atkins  to  commit  an 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  JuitlH  Chatlw 

offence  with  Wiltle,  1 shall  order  the  same  com  sc  to  he  taken  with 
rcg.utl  to  tlic  conspiracy  charges  and  the  otlicrs  upon  which  there 
iiss  been  no  evidence. 

Sir  EnwARD  Clarke— It  is  only  a matter  of  form,  but  it  is  not 
unimportant;  and  as  the  whole  indictment  has  been  given  in  charge 
of  the  jury,  I ask  that  your  lordship  will  direct  the  jury  to  take 
a verdict  of  “Not  Guilty”  upon  the  conspiracy  counts, 

Mr,  Justice  Charue— (addressing  the  jury):  You  understood 
me  this  morning,  gentlemen,  to  direct  a verdict  upon  the  counts 
I explained,  and  also  upon  the  other  counts  to  which  I have  just 
made  allusion. 

Tlie  Jury  formally  returned  a verdict  of  “Not  Guilty”  on 
counts  7,  10,  II,  12, 17,  21,  22,  23  and  24  in  relation  to  Wilde,  and 
on  counts  to,  11,  T2, 16,  20,  at,  22,  23  and  24  in  relation  to  Taylor. 

The  Ci.EHE  or  Arraio.ns  (tu  the  jury)  -To  the  rest  of  the  indict- 
ment you  are  unable  to  :igrcc? 

'I'lie  Foreman- 'Thill  is  so. 

Mr.  JiisTioK  CitARLKS  As  the  matters  which  have  kept  the  Court 
so  long  remain  undecided,  you  are  discharged,  gentlemen. 

The  Jury  were  discharged. 


Application  for  Dail. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— I have  now  to  make  an  application  that 
Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  be  admitted  to  bail.  I should  think  that  after 
what  has  taken  place  the  Crown  would  make  no  objection. 

Mr.  Clarke  Hall — And  I make  the  same  application  on  behalf 
of  Taylor. 

Mr,  Gill— With  regard  to  the  question  of  bail,  it  will  depend 
upon  what  course  your  lordship  thinks  desirable.  With  regard  to 
the  fresh  trial,  if  it  is  to  take  place  immediately  the  question  of 
bail  would  not  be  important,  to  the  defendants;  but  if  it  is  to  go  to 
the  next  sessions  I shall  say  nothing  upon  the  matter.  All  the  farts 
of  this  case  are  before  your  lordship,  and  I will  say  nothing  to 
influence  your  lordship’s  judgment  in  the  matter. 

268 


Application  for  Bail. 

Mr,  Juitice  Chirlti 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— I do  not  feel  that  I am  able  to  accede  to 
the  application. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— I suppose  that  I may  renew  the  application, 
on  other  material,  to  a judge  in  chambers? 

Mr.  Justice.  Charles— Yes,  I think  the  application  must  be 
renewed  in  the  ordinary  way  to  a judge  in  chambers.  . 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— I do  not  think  that  such  a trial  as  this 
ought  to  take  place  immediately.  The  burden  and  pressure  on  those 
engaged  in  the  case  has  been  very  great.  The  Treasury,  too,  I 
should  think,  would  like  to  have  an  opportunity  of  considering 
between  this  and  another  sessions  the  mode  in  which  the  case  should 
be  presented,  if  at  all. 

Mr.  GiL^-The  case  will  certainly  be  tried  again;  but  whether 
at  the  next  sessions  or  not  will  depend  on  what  is  the  most  coU' 
venient  course.  Probably  the  most  convenient  course  will  be  that 
it  should  be  taken  at  the  next  sessions.  That  is  the  usual  course. 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— If  that  be  the  usual  course,  let  it  be  so. 

Mr.  Giu^All  the  witnesses  will  be  bound  over  and  their 
recognisances  enlarged? 

Mr.  Justice  Charles— Certainly. 

The  Court  adjourned. 


269 


THE  TRIAL 


WITHIN  TKB 


CENTRAL  CRIMINAL  COURT, 
OLD  BAILEY,  LONDON 
MONDAY,  20TH  MAY,  1895. 


Judge— 

THE  HON.  MR.  JUSTICE  WILLS. 


Counsel  for  the  Crotiin — 

The  Solioitoe-Geneeal  (Sie  Feank  Lockwood,  Q.C.,  M.P.). 
Me.  Chables  Fhedeeick  Giii. 

Me.  Hoeace  Avoey. 

(Instructed  by  the  Director  of  Public  Prosecutions.) 


Counsel  for  the  Prisoner,  Oscar  Wilde— 

Sie  Edwaed  Claeke,  Q.C.,  M.P. 

Mr.  Charles  Willie  Mathews. 

Me.  Travers  Humphreys. 

(Instructed  by  Messrs.  C.  0.  Humphreys,  Son  & Kershaw.) 


Counsel  for  the  Prisoner,  Alfred  Taylor— 

Mr.  John  Peter  Grain. 

Mr.  William  Clarke  Hall. 

(Instructed  by  Messrs.  Arthur  Neivton  k Co.) 
271 


Oscar  Wiklc, 

Third  Trial.  First  iJay  Monday,  20tli  May,  1895, 
Indictment  and  Fleas. 

No  fresh  inilietment  (awing  been  preferred  agaiiast  IXscar  Fingal 
O’Flahehi'ib  Wills  Wilde  and  At-ruEi)  Waterhouse  Somerset 
Taylor,  the  prisoners  were  charged  under  the  coiim.s  in  the  indict- 
ment at  the  previous  trial,  on  which  tire  jury  had  failed  to  agree.' 

The  Clerk  of  AnRAioKs  read  out  the  following  counts  on  this 
indictment— Counts  i,  a,  3,  4,  5,  6,  8,  9,  13,  14,  15,  18,  19.  and  45. 

The  prisoners  pleaded  Not  Guilty. 

Sir  Edward  Clarku— My  lord,  1 have  an  application  to  make 
that  the  prisoners  may  he  tried  scp.iratcly. 

Mr.  ItMTtcii  Wills  Unless  the  Solidlor-Gciicral  ha.s  anything 
to  say-  — 

The  Soi.iciTOR  Genkrai.  I liavc,  ray  lord. 

Sir  Edward  Ct.ARKii  -If  iiiy  Ir.inied  friend,  the  Solieimr  General, 
is  going  to  ohjecl,  1 will  state  at  some  length  the  grounds  of  my 
application.  It  is  the  prisoners'  right  to  he  tried  separately,  At 
the  last  trial  there  was  an  indktment  for  con.spivacy  which  has  now 
been  withdrawn,  and  there  is  no  single  cmtni  .standing  now  on  the 
indictineui  on  which  both  pri«utcrs  can  he  convicted,  j Counsel 
referred  to  a murder  trial  in  which  cite  Solicitor-General  had  made 
and  succeeded  with  a similar  application,  to  the  same  judge,  and  in 
that  same  Court.] 

[Mr.  Grain  concurred  on  behalf  of  his  client.] 

The  Solicitor-General— The  case  which  Sir  Edward  Clarke 
has  quoted  was  quite  different— that  was  a felony.  I must 
point  out  that  one  of  the  counts  on  the  present  indictment  charges 
Taylor  with  procuring  certain  persons  to  commit  illegal  acts  with 
Wilde,  and  that  the  history  of  those  cases  is  so  bound  up  together 
that  it  is  impossible  to  inquire  into  one  without  inquiring  into  the 
other.  I claim,  therefore,  that  it  is  the  fairest  course  towards  the 
accused  that  there  should  be  but  one  inquiry. 

I See  Above,  p.  265. 

272 


Indictment  and  Pleas. 

sir  Eilyrnd  Clarkt 

Sir  Edwakd  CiAaKE— The  chief  ground  on  which  my  learned 
friend  has  opposed  the  separate  trial  of  the  defendants  is  that  such 
a course  would  involve  injustice  to  them.  The  best  judges  of  that 
matter  are  those  who  have  the  responsibility  of  advising  and 
representing  the  defendants,  and  we  are  of  opinion  that  it  would 
involve  injustice  to  both  if  the  prisoners  were  put  upon  their 
trial  together.  Therefore,  I respectfully  urge  upon  your  lordship, 
it  being  clear  that  there  is  no  one  count  in  the  indictment  upon 
which  both  of  the  defendants  can  be  convicted,  that,  in  diese 
circumstances,  they  are  entitled  to  be  tried  separately, 

Mr.  JosTics  Wills— I have  anticipated  this  application  and  I 
have  already  considered  it  carefully  with  regard  to  the  evidence. 
( His  lordship  went  on  to  say  that  he  did  not  pretend  to  be  entirely 
ignorant  of  the  case.  He  continued] ; My  own  opinion  is — though 
I do  not  put  it  higher  than  an  opinion — that  it  is  much  fairer  that 
the  defendants  should  be  tried  separately,  and  that  that  course  is 
only  right  and  proper. 

The  Solicitor-Gensrai/— As  your  lordship  pleases.  In  that  case, 
my  lord,  1 propose  to  take  the  case  of  Taylor  first. 

Sir  Edward  Curke— My  lord,  I must  object  to  this  course  on 
the  ground  that  my  client  would  be  prejudiced  by  having  the  case 
against  Taylor  heard  first.  I apply  that  the  case  against  Mr.  Wilde 
be  taken  first.  His  name  stands  first  upon  this  indictment,  and 
the  first  count  is  directed  against  him.  There  are  reasons,  I am  sure, 
present  to  your  lordship’s  mind  why  it  would  be  unjust  to  Mr. 
Wilde  that  his  case  should  be  cried  after,  and  immediatdy  after,  the 
trial  of  the  other  defendant. 

[The  Solicitor-Geheral  again  objected,  saying  that  the 
prosecution  could  please  itself  in  the  matter.] 

Mr.  Justice  Wius— It  ought  not  to  make  any  difference.  Sir 
Edward.  Certainly  I— and  I am  sure  the  jury  wilk-wil]  do  my 
very  best  to  take  care  that  one  trial  shall  have  no  influence  upon  the 
odier. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— It  ought  not,  my  lord;  it  ought  not,  I 
know,  to  make  any  difference.  I am  sure  the  jury  will  try  to  do 
their  duty.  But  there  never  was  a time  and  a case  in  which  that 
duty  was  more  difficult  to  discharge,  and  I respectfully  ask  tiiat  as 

I *73 


Oscar  Wilde. 


sic  Edward  Clarbt 

Mr.  Wilde’s  name  stands  first  upon  the  indictment,  and  the  first 
count  concerns  him,  that  his  case  be  taken  first. 

Mr.  Justice  Wius— 1 can  assure  you,  Sir  Edward,  that  what- 
ever the  result  o£  the  first  trial  may  be,  the  jury  and  I will  endeavour 
to  ensure  that  it  shall  have  no  influence  on  the  second.  Moreover, 
it  is,  in  my  opinion,  within  the  rights  of  the  prosecution  to  elect 
in  what  order  the  cases  should  be  taken. 

Sir  Edwaed  Clarke— Then  I make  a further  application,  which 
I shall  repeat  at  the  end  of  Taylor’s  trial,  and  that  is  that  Mr. 
Wilde’s  case  may  stand  over  to  the  next  sessions.  And  I am  pre- 
pared to  urge  that  upon  your  lordship. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— I think  that  application,  Sir  Edward,  had 
better  be  postponed  till  the  end  of  the  first  uial.  If  there  should 
be  an  acquittal,  so  much  the  better  for  the  other  prisoner. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — But  in  the  meantime  Mr.  Wilde  may  be 
out  on  bail? 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— Certainly,  if  the  bail  are  here.  [The 
Solicitor-General  having  offered  no  objection,  his  lordship  con- 
tinued;] There  is  no  reason  for  refusing  this  application,  if  the 
bail  are  present.  If  not,  they  can  be  sent  for. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— As  your  lordship  pleases.  They  shall  be 
sent  for  immediately. 

The  prisoner  Wilde  was  thereupon  removed  from  the  dock 
and  taken  below  to  the  cells,  pending  the  appearance  of  his 
sureties. 

The  Jury  were  sworn. 


The  Case  Against  Taylor. 

Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

The  Solicitor-General— May  it  please  your  lordship,  gendemen 
of  the  jury— In  opening  this  case  against  Alfred  Taylor  I must 
express  the  hope  that  the  prisoner  may  have  a most  impartial  trial. 
I believe,  however,  that  such  an  appeal  to  you  is  absolutely  and 
entirely  unnecessary.  The  prisoner  Taylor  is  a young  man  of 
good  family,  who  has  been  educated  at  one  of  the  large  public 
274 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

The  SoUcttor-fleiieTal 

schools  in  this  country,  and  at  his  majority  inherited  a large  sum 
of  money.  For  a sho.t  time  he  held  a commission  in  a militia 
regiment.  But,  apparendy,  his  fortune  being  exhausted,  for  some 
time  before  the  events  with  which  you  will  have  to  deal,  Taylor 
followed  no  occupation  of  any  sort  of  kind.  The  prisoner  Wilde, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  a man  of  literary  attainments,  a man  who 
has  achieved  sure  distinction  by  his  dramatic  works.  Apparently, 
at  the  time  of  which  I am  speaking,  Wilde  had  a house  in  Tite 
Street,  Chelsea,  in  which  he  lived  with  his  wife  and  children, 
and  he  had  also  a sitting-room  and  a bed-room  at  the  Savoy  Hotel. 
Taylor  was  living  at  13  Littie  College  Street,  Westminster,  and  the 
first  charge  with  which  I shall  deal  is  that  Taylor  attempted  to 
procure  the  commission  of  certain  acts  by  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  with  a 
young  man  named  Charles  Parker.  I insist  that  no  false  delicacy 
will  be  allowed  to  prevent  the  whole  of  the  details  of  what  actually 
took  place  from  being  laid  before  you,  gentlemen.  It  is  your  right 
to  know  what  did  take  place,  and  nothing  ought  to  be  left  to  you  to 
guess. 

[Counsel  recapitulated  the  details  given  at  the  previous  trial  by 
the  witnesses  Charles  and  William  Parker  as  to  the  intimacy  of 
themselves  and  the  witness,  Alfred  Wood,  with  Taylor  and  Wilde. 
The  SouetTou-GENBRAL  went  on  to  explain  that  these  details  would 
be  repeated  by  the  witnesses  and  corroborated  by  other  evidence.] 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Charles  Parker,  examined  by  Mr.  Gjll— [Witoess  repeated  the 
evidence-in-chief  he  had  given  at  the  previous  trial.] 

Examination  continued—la  August,  1894,  something  happened 
to  you  and  Taylor?— Yes,  we  were  arrested. 

By  Mr.  Justice  Wills— Arrested?  On  what  charge?  [Witness 
appeared  to  hesitate,  and  his  lordship  continued : ] I only  want  to 
MOW,  you  know.  You  leave  the  impression  that  there  is  some- 
thing mysterious,  What  were  you  arrested  for?— For  being  in  a 
house  in  Fitzroy  Street, 

Mr.  Gill— Really  for  being  there  with  a felonious  purpose. 
There  were  men  dressed  as  women. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— Then  I suppose  they  were  charged  with 
consorting  together  to  commit  acts  of  indecency.  Much  better  have 
the  whole  thing  out. 


275 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Charlei  Parker 

Mr.  Gbmn — ^In  that  case,  then,  better  at  the  same  time  have  it 
out  that  both  Taylor  and  Parker  were  discharged  by  the  magistrate. 

Examination  continued — Taylor  kept  me  at  his  rooms  for  a 
whole  week,  during  which  time  we  rarely  went  out.  We  slept 
together  in  the  same  bed.  Taylor  called  me  “Darling”  and 
referred  to  me  as  his  “little  wife.”  When  I left  he  paid  me  some 
money;  he  said  1 should  never  want  for  cash  and  &at  he  would 
introduce  me  to  men  prepared  to  pay  for  that  kind  of  thing.. 

Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Grain— I was  previously  guilty  of  this 
kind  of  offence.  I determined  never  to  submit  to  such  treatment 
again,  but  Taylor  overpersuaded  me.  The  first  time  I was  nearly 
drunk,  and  incapable  of  making  any  moral  resistance. 

Do  you  know  a man  named  Harrington? — ^Yes. 

Did  you  meet  him  in  the  bar  of  the  St.  James’s  Restaurant?— 
Yes. 

Did  he  introduce  you  to  Taylor?— No. 

Who  introduced  you  to  Harrington?— No  one. 

Have  you  ever  received  hush  money?— No. 

Have  you  threatened  to  charge  t^eoplc  with  offences  unless  they 
paid  you  money?— No. 

You  know  Wood  and  Allen?— Yes. 

Be  careful  I You  have  been  in  that  box  before.  Have  you  not 
already  admitted  receiving  ,£30?— They  did  not  tell  me  it  was  hush- 
money.  They  gave  it  to  me. 

That  was  just  before  you  enlisted?— Yes. 

Did  either  Allen  or  Wood  tell  you  how  they  got  it?— Yes; 
they  said  they  got  it  out  of  a gentleman. 

A gentleman  with  whom  you  had  committed  acts  of  indecency? 
-Yes. 

Did  you  know  a gentleman  named  Macklin?— No;  but  I have 
heard  the  name  before.  I have  beard  Taylor  speak  of  him. 

Did  he  not  come  to  your  rooms  at  Camera  Square  about  May, 
1894?— I never  knew  his  name.  At  least,  it  did  not  sound  like 
that.  I know  the  man  you  mean. 

Do  you  know  a person  named  Clarke? — Yes. 

Did  Macklin  tell  you  he  had  a number  of  letters  belonging  to 
Clarke?— Yes. 

When  he  had  hung  up  his  coat  in  your  room,  did  you  not  take 
those  letters  out  of  his  pocket?— No. 

Do  you  swear  that?— Yes. 

Did  he  not  accuse  you  next  day  of  having  stolen  his  letters?— 
No;  he  gave  me  one  of  the  letters, 

276 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

CIntles  Fuker 

One  of  Clarke’s  letters?— Yes. 

What  did  you  want  one  of  Clarke’s  letters  for?— I didn't  want 
it.  I gave  it  back. 

Did  you  not  go  in  June,  1894,  about  Whitsuntide,  to  Mr.  Clarke 
and  ask  him  for  ;Cio?— Yes. 

Had  you  the  letters  with  you?— No. 

A letter? — ^No. 

What  did  you  want  for?— To  go  to  America. 

Where  is  Mr.  Clarke  now? — don’t  know. 

But  why  should  Clarke  give  you  ^10? — ^He  was  the  only  friend 
1 had  in  London.  I had  known  him  for  three  years. 

By  Mr.  JusncE  Wats- Who  was  Clarke?— He  was  a silver 
broker  or  something  in  the  silver  trade.  He  lived  at  3 Northumber- 
land Mansions.  At  that  time  he  worked  for  his  brother-in-law  in 
Bond  Street,  but  he  is  now  out  of  the  country. 

Examination  continued— Hii  you  not  at  that  interview  take 
Clarke’s  watch  out  of  his  pocket?— Never. 

What?  Was  not  a constable  sent  for?— I don’t  think  a constable 
was  sent  for. 

Did  he  threaten  to  charge  you?— Not  for  that. 

What  do  you  mean  by  that?— Clarke  said  that  his  brother  was 
coming,  and  that  if  1 did  not  be  off  he  would  send  for  a constable. 

You  swear  that  you  did  not  take  his  watch  and  chain,  and  that 
when  the  constable  came  you  gave  it  up.i* — I do  swear  it. 

Did  he  not  threaten  to  charge  you  with  stealing  his  gold  watch 
and  chain? — No. 

Did  Clarke  introduce  you  to  a man  named  Durnbach? — ^No. 

Did  you  ever  threaten  Clarke  about  letters  he  had  written  to 
Durnbach? — ^No. 

Do  you  know  Durnbach? — Yes.  Taylor  introduced  me  to 
Durnbach.  1 never  demanded  money  from  Durnbach. 

Did  you  tell  Taylor  that  your  father  was  a horse  dealer  at 
Datchet?— Yes. 

Is  that  true?— Yes.  At  least  he  trained  horses  and  that  son 
of  thing. 

Were  you  examined  three  times  by  the  police  before  you  said 
a word  about  Taylor?— Yes. 

Re-examined  by  the  SouoiTOR-GENBKAir-The  third  examinatioo 
was  not  the  first  time  I was  asked  questions  about  Taylor. 

277 


Oscar  Wilde. 


WllHam  Parker 

William  Paprir,  examined  by  the  Solioitor-General— 
[Witness  repeated  the  evidence  he  gave  at  the  former  trial.] 

Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Grain — had  been  out  of  employment 
for  about  a fortnight  when  I made  Taylor's  acquaintance.  I knew 
Taylor  only  for  a few  weeks. 

Alered  Wood,  examined  by  the  Solicitor-General — [Witness 
repeated  the  evidence  he  gave  at  the  former  trial.] 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— I suppose  the  purport  of  this  evidence  is  to 
show  that  Wilde  was  anxious  to  get  Wood  out  of  the  way? 

The  Soucitor-General — ^Yes,  and  that  he  was  paid  money  to 
do  it. 

Examination  continued — From  whom  came  the  telegram  in  con- 
sequence of  which  you  went  to  the  Qitd  Royal  to  meet  Mr.  Wilde? 
—From  Lord  Alfred  Douglas. 

By  Mr.  Justice  Wills— Had  you  any  acquaintance  with  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas  at  the  time  you  first  met  Mr.  Wilde?— Yes. 

Examination  continued — ^Where  had  you  met  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  first?— At  Taylor’s  rooms  in  Litde  College  Street. 

Who  introduced  you  to  him? — No  one.  He  came  up  to  me  and 
shook  hands  with  me. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— The  evidence  of  procuration  against  Taylor 
seems  no  stronger  than  it  may  be  against  three  or  four  omer 
persons.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  not  Taylor  being  the  introducer, 
evidence  as  to  Wilde’s  conduct  is  not  evidence  against  Taylor. 
Something  more  than  Wood’s  introduction  to  Taylor  by  Wilde 
must  be  proved.  There  must  be  direct  evidence,  if  any,  of  a 
criminal  motive  on  the  part  of  Wilde.  [His  lordship  directed  the 
witness  to  stand  down.] 

Mrs.  Ellen  Grant,  examined  by  Mr.  Gill— [Witness  repeated 
the  evidence  she  gave  at  the  previous  trial.] 

Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Grain— I did  not  tell  Taylor  that  the 
police  had  been  to  make  inquiries  about  him. 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Jans  Margirst  Cottar 

Jane  Maegaret  Cotteh,  exEmined  by  the  Solicitor^jeneeai— 
[Witness  repeated  the  evidence  she  gave  at  the  previous  trial.] 

Emtee  Beckee,  examined  by  2kff.  GiUr— I am  a waiter  at  the 
Savoy  Hotel.  I remember  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  and  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  staying  at  the  hotel  in  March,  1893.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
occupied  a room  next  to  Mr.  Wilde’s.  After  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
left  the  hotel  Mr,  Wdde  stayed  on  and  was  visited  by  other  young 
men. 

Mrs.  Sophia  Gray,  examined  by  Mr.  Gill— [Witness  repeated 
the  evidence  she  gave  at  the  previous  trial.] 

The  SoLiciTOE-GENEEA^-'That  is  the  case  for  the  Crown,  my 
lord. 

[Mr.  Grain  submitted  that,  so  far  as  the  case  against  Taylor 
went,  there  was  an  almost  entire  absence  of  corroboration. 

The  Solicitor.X3eniiial  contended  that  there  was  ample  evidence 
on  which  to  go  to  the  jury. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills  held  that  there  was  sufficient  corroborative 
evidence  to  get  rid  of  any  technical  difficulty,  and  he  thought  it 
better  that  diere  should  be  a verdict,  for  reasons  which  would 
appear  in  his  summing  up.] 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

[Mr.  Grain  asked  the  jury  to  believe  that  it  was  impossible  for  a 
young  man  of  the  prisoner’s  educadon  and  family  connexions  to 
commit  the  offences  with  which  he  was  charged— unless  he  was  out 
of  his  mind.  The  statements  of  the  two  Parkers,  counsel  contended, 
could  not  be  accepted,  because  those  witnesses  were,  by  their  own 
confession,  accomplices  in  the  acts;  and  a man  could  not  be  con- 
victed of  such  offences  on  the  uncorroborated  evidence  of  accom- 
plices. Moreover,  one  accomplice  could  not,  the  law  said,  corro- 
borate another  accomplice.  There  was  really  no  independent  corro- 
borative evidence  and  when  he  had  called  his  client,  and  he  had 
denied  all  the  allegations,  as  he  would  do,  counsel  should  ask  the 
jury  to  acquit  the  accused.  A great  deal  had  been  made  of  the 
way  in  which  Taylor  had  furnished  and  decorated  his  rooms,  but 
279 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  Grain 

they  were  decorated  only  .is  a young  man  of  taste  might  be  expected 
to  decorate  his  bachelor  apartments. 

No  doubt  Taylor  had  been  a very  unwise  young  man,  but  it 
did  not  follow  that  he  bad  been  a criminal.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
man  of  property  and  of  high  commercial  position,  whose  business 
was  still  being  carried  on  successfully  as  a limited  company. 
Educated  at  Marlborough  and  by  private  tutors,  he  had  tried  his 
best  to  get  a commission  in  the  Army  through  the  Militia.  Unfor- 
tunately for  him,  he  succeeded  too  early  to  the  uncontrolled  pos- 
session of  a large  fortune  left  him  by  his  father  and  his  uncle. 
Being  thus  led  into  habits  of  idleness  and  extravagance,  and  into 
what  counsel  would  at  once  admit  was  a more  or  less  vicious 
mode  of  life,  the  result  was  the  common  one — he  soon  spent  the 
whole  of  his  money  and  a great  deal  more,  so  that  in  the  course  of 
the  previous  year  he  had  found  himself  in  the  Bankruptcy  Court. 
But  counsel  found  It  incredible  that  a man  beginning  life  under 
such  favourable  auspices  should  be  guilty  of  those  unmentionable 
acts.  There  was  not  a suggestion  that  Taylor  had  reaped  a single 
penny  of  advantage.  The  evidence  against  him  was  the  tainted 
evidence  of  young  men  who,  on  their  own  admissions,  might  have 
been  placed  in  the  dock  instead  of  Taylor,  or  by  his  side.] 


Third  Trial.  Second  Day— Tuesday,  21sf  May,  1895. 

Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Alfred  Taylor,  examined  by  Mr.  Grain— [Wimess  repeated 
the  evidence  which  he  had  given  in  his  examinarion-in-chief  at  the 
previous  trial.] 

Examination  continued — Is  it  true  that  at  Little  College  Street 
you  committed  any  acts  of  indecency? — ^Absolutely  untrue. 

After  the  committal  of  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry  to  this 
Court  were  you  seen  by  ex-Detective  Litdechild?— Yes. 

Were  you  afterwards  served  with  a subpeena  to  attend  this 
Court?— Yes,  and  I was  here  in  the  Court  the  whole  of  the  time. 

Cross-examined  by  the  Solicitor-General— Since  you  left  the 
Militia  have  you  had  any  fixed  occupation? — ^No. 

How  long  did  you  live  in  Little  College  Street? — Mrs.  Gram 
would  tell  you  the  exact  date.  I fancy  it  was  about  a year  and  a 
half. 


280 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Allred  TajriM 

There  was  only  one  bed  in  your  rooms  there?— Yes. 

And  you  had  from  dme  to  time  young  men  calling  upon  you? 
—Yes;  I have  several  friends. 

Boys?— Eighteen  to  twenty-one,  if  you  call  those  boys. 

Boys  of  sixteen?  So  young  as  that? — I don’t  remember  any 
one  as  young  as  sixteen,  except  Mrs.  Grant’s  children,  who  brought 
up  my  milk  in  the  morning. 

Did  Charles  Mason  stay  with  you? — Yes,  for  about  a week  when 
I first  went  there  in  1892. 

How  old  is  he? — He  is  now  twenty-six  or  twenty-seven. 

How  did  you  address  him? — ^As  “Dear  Charlie." 

In  writing  to  him  did  you  send  him  your  love?— Yes,  I generally 
do. 

When  you  are  writing  to  a young  man? — It  depends  who  the 
man  is.  If  he  is  a great  friend  of  mine,  I might  say  “With  love,” 
or  “Yours  affectionately,”  or  something  of  that  sort. 

And  that  is  how  Mason  would  address  you? — I suppose  so. 

Do  you  remember  going  through  a form  of  marriage  with 
Mason?— No,  never. 

Did  you  not  tell  Parker  that  you  had?— Nothing  of  the  kind. 

No  burlesque  ceremony?— No,  nothing. 

Did  you  not  place  a wedding  ring  on  his  finger  and  go  to  bed 
with  him  that  night  as  though  be  were  your  lawful  wife?— It  is  all 
false.  I deny  it  all. 

Did  you  ever  sleep  with  Mason? — I think  I did  the  first  night. 
Afterwards  he  had  a separate  bed. 

Were  you  on  terms  of  affection  with  him?— I don’t  understand 
your  question.  If  you  mean  did  I commit  acts  of  indecency,  I 
did  not, 

I did  not  use  that  term? — ^I  knew  him  very  well.  He  was  a 
great  friend  of  mine. 

Did  you  induce  Mason  to  attire  himself  as  a woman? — Certainly 
1 did  not. 

But  there  were  articles  of  women’s  dress  in  your  rooms? — No, 
there  was  a fancy  dress  for  a female,  an  Eastern  costume. 

Was  it  made  for  a woman? — ^I  think  so. 

Perhaps  you  wore  it? — I put  it  on  once  by  way  of  a lark. 

On  no  other  occasion? — I wore  it  too  at  fancy  dress  balls,  at  the 
carnivals  at  Olympia,  at  Covent  Garden  and  at  Queen’s  Gate  Hall. 

I suggest  that  you  often  dressed  as  a woman? — ^No. 

You  wore,  and  caused  Mason  afterwards  to  wear,  lace  drawers, 
a woman’s  garment,  with  the  dressi’ — Hardly  that.  I wore  knicker- 
281 


Oscar  Wilde. 

Allred  Taylor 

bockers  and  stockings  under  a long  open  cloak  which  was  fastened 
at  the  waist. 

And  a woman’s  wig,  which  afterwards  did  for  Mason?— No, 
the  wig  was  made  for  me.  I was  going  to  a ball  as  Dick 
Whittington. 

Woman’s  stockings?— Yes. 

How  many  diflerent  men  have  shared  your  bedroom? — Must 
1 give  all  my  friends’  names? 

Yes,  sir,  you  must.— May  I write  them  down? 

No,  sir,  you  may  tell  us  them.  I will  have  no  names  suppressed 
if  I can  help  it.— My  lord,  I would  prefer  to  write  them  on  a piece 
of  paper. 

The  SoLiciToa-GaNERAL — We  will  have  no  names  kept  back 
if  ! can  help  it. 

Mr.  Justice  Wiles— If  you  write  it,  I shall  read  it  out.  I don’t 
approve  of  mystery  in  cases  of  this  kind.  It  is  sometimes  done 
good-naturedly  and  great  mischief  is  caused.  It  is  supposed  that 
there  is  some  kind  of  mystery,  and  that  the  judge  and  everybody 
else  are  in  a kind  of  conspiracy.  We  will  have  nothing  of  that  kind. 

The  SouciTor-Geheeal — am  very  much  obliged  to  your  lord- 
ship  for  taking  that  view. 

Cross-examination  continued — [Witness,  after  some  hesitation, 
recalled  the  names  of  Mason,  the  two  Parkers,  and  Sidney  Mavor. 
When  pressed  he  added  the  name  of  Harrington.  The  Sqligitoe- 
General  urged  him  to  disclose  further  names,  and  witness  con- 
tinued;] Must  I disclose  my  other  friend’s  name? 

Yes?— Ernest  Macklin.  I met  him  first  at  my  mother’s  house. 

Where  was  that?— Must  I say? 

No,  never  mind,  I will  spare  your  mother  that.  Did  Macklin 
ever  sleep  with  you  at  Little  College  Street?— No,  never. 

Can’t  you  remember  any  others?— I’m  trying  to  think.  Perhaps 
you  can  help  me  if  you  have  the  names. 

You  say  that  you  did  not  accost  the  Parkers,  but  that  Harrington 
introduced  you  to  them? — ^Ycs. 

Did  you  offer  the  Parkers  a drink  at  that  first  meeting?— They 
stood  a drink  and  I retaliated. 

After  Harrington  had  introduced  them? — ^Hc  was  living  with 
them.  Harrington  and  the  Parkers  came  up  to  the  bar  at  the  same 
time  as  I did. 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Alfred  Taylor 

What  were  you  doing  there?— I was  having  a drink  after  the 
theatre. 

Following  your  usual  custom  of  doing  nothing? — ^Yes,  if  that’s 
what  you  call  doing  nothing. 

Did  you  not  give  your  address  to  the  Parkers  on  the  occasion 
of  your  first  meeting  Aem  at  the  St.  James’s  bar?— No. 

Where  is  Harrington  now?— I do  not  know. 

Here?— Probably,  very  probably,  for  all  I know. 

The  Solicitor-General — Call  Harrington. 

[Harrington  was  called  by  the  ushers  of  the  Court,  and  he  came 
in.] 

Cross-examination  continued— Is  that  Harrington?— Yes. 

You  did  not  know  he  was  here,  did  you?— Yes,  I imagined  you 
had  him  here  to  be  called. 

Where  and  when  did  you  first  meet  Harrington?— At  the  house 
of  a man  named  Court  in  July,  1892. 

What  was  Court?— He  was  a schoolmaster. 

What  was  the  attraction  about  Harrington? — I don’t  know  what 
his  attraction  was. 

Did  you  take  Harrington  to  the  Tivoli? — No. 

Why  did  he  stay  with  you  on  Saturday  and  Sunday? — Oh,  1 
asked  him. 

Did  you  take  him  the  same  night  to  a restaurant  in  Victoria 
Street? — ^Not  the  same  night.  I never  took  him  at  all.  It  was  my 
friend. 

Who  is  your  friend? — ^Must  I mention  his  name? 

Yes,  you  must? — Schwabe. 

That  is  the  person  you  say  introduced  Wilde  to  you? — ^Yes. 

Was  it  not  a man  named  Harold  Henry? — think  you  are  right. 
It  was.  I have  dined  with  Schwabe  and  Harrington,  but  it  was  on 
another  occasion. 

Who  is  Henry? — musician;  a clerk  in  a music  publisher’s  at 
Pumey. 

Have  you  slept  with  him? — Yes;  he  was  staying  with  me  at  the 
time. 

He  was  in  your  bedroom?- Yes;  whenever  my  friends  came  to 
see  me  they  always  saw  all  the  rooms  because  they  were  rather 
interested  in  them. 


283 


Oscar  Wilde. 


AUrad  Taylor 

[The  witncis  denied  positively  that  he  had  been  guilty  of 
impropriety  with  Harrington. 

Mr.  Grain  took  objection  to  the  question  being  raised  with 
regard  to  a man  who  had  not  been  called  in  the  case. 

Mr.  Justice  Wats  held  that  as  cross^ntamination  to  character 
the  question  was  relevant.] 

Cross-examination  continued— Vfho  introduced  you  to  the 
Parkers?— Harrington.  In  the  bar  of  the  St.  James’s  Restaurant. 

Did  you  know  that  Charles  Parker  had  been  a gendeman’s 
servant? — No.  1 knew  it  afterwards,  but  I did  not  know  it  at  the 
time. 

When  did  you  hear  that  William  Parker  had  been  a groom?— 
Not  until  the  trial. 

On  the  occasion  of  leaving  the  Parkers  at  the  St.  James’s 
Restaurant,  did  you  invite  them  to  visit  you  at  Little  College 
Street? — I cannot  remember. 

What  was  the  attraction  about  them? — They  were  very  nice. 

In  what  way  “very  nice”?  Nice  looking?— No;  pleasant  spoken 
and  amusing. 

How  came  it  about  that  those  two  young  fellows  went  to  your 
house  on  the  first  occasion?— They  came  to  see  me.  They  came  in 
the  morning.  They  were  staying  with  me  at  the  time  of  the  dinner. 
They  came  to  me  when  they  left  Hunter  Street,  Brunswick  Square. 
They  asked  me  if  I could  put  them  up  for  a week,  and  I did  so. 
Ultimately  I persuaded  William  Parker  to  go  home  to  his  father. 
Charles  Parker  determined  to  remain  in  London.  After  a few 
weeks  he  went  away  to  Paris  with  a gentleman,  and  stayed  in  Paris 
about  five  months.  I saw  him  only  once  after  that. 

At  this  time  were  you  in  communicadon  with  Oscar  Wilde?— 
I used  to  go  to  see  him  at  the  Savoy.  I told  him  the  Parkers  were 
staying  with  me  when  he  asked  me  to  dinner. 

Did  you  receive  this  telegram  dated  7th  March,  1893 : “Could 
you  rail  at  she  o’clock  Savoy,  Oscar”?- Yes. 

And  this  one:  “Obliged  to  see  Tree  at  five  o’clock,  so  don’t 
come  to  Savoy.  Let  me  know  at  once  about  Fred”?— Yea. 

I suppose  “Fred”  means  Fred  Atkins? — Yes. 

Did  you  lake  the  Parkers  to  dine  with  Wilde  at  a restaurant? 
—Yes. 

When  you  first  met  them  did  you  mention  the  name  of  Oscar 
Wilde? — ^Nq,  not  on  that  occasion. 

Did  you  say  that  Oscar  Wilde  had  lots  of  money? — Not  then. 

When?— Not  at  any  time,  because  I don’t  think  he  had. 

284 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Allred  Taylor 

Did  you  say  he  was  fond  of  boys? — I may  have  said  that  he 
was  fond  of  young  people— that  he  liked  their  society.  I did  not 
put  it  in  the  way  you  mean. 

Where  did  you  meet  these  young  fellows?— At  the  Alhambra, 
the  Empire,  the  Pavilion,  and  the  St.  James's  Restaurant. 

Who  paid?  These  are  not  free  institutions,— We  all  paid  for 
ourselves.  I was  not  in  a position  to  pay  for  other  people. 

Did  you  use  to  meet  them  in  Piccadilly? — ^No,  no. 

They  walked  along  Piccadilly? — know  what  you  are  insinuat- 
ing. 

I am  insinuating  that  you  walked  Piccadilly? — I frequently 
walked  through  Piccadilly. 

Why  did  you  take  the  Parkers  to  dine  with  Mr.  Wilde?— Mr. 
Wilde  asked  me  to  dinner  as  it  was  my  birthday.  The  Parkers 
happened  to  be  staying  with  me.  1 said  so,  and  Mr.  Wilde  told  me 
to  bring  them  along  with  me. 

There  were  four  of  you  at  table:  Oscar  Wilde,  yourself,  the 
ex-groom  and  the  ex-valet?— Yes. 

Why  did  you  take  them?— They  were  my  friends.  Charlie 
Parka  wanted  to  go  on  the  stage.  I thought  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde 
would  be  a useful  man  to  help  them. 

Your  friends  of  a fortnight?— You  might  say  three  weeks.  The 
party  was  of  a convivial  nature.  We  all  laughed  a good  deal. 

At  the  humours  of  the  Parkers? — ^No,  at  the  humours  of  Mr. 
WUde. 

Oh,  so  it  was  Oscar  Wilde  who  was  amusing,  not  the  Parkas? 
— ^Yes.  It  amused  him  to  amuse  us. 

Did  you  hear  him  say  that  Charles  Parker  was  the  boy  for  him? 
—No,  I did  not. 

Did  Charles  Parka  leave  the  restaurant  with  Mr.  Wilde? — ^No. 

Up  to  that  point  the  story  of  the  Parkas  is  true?— Yes,  up  to 
that  point. 

And  from  that  point?— The  Parkas  went  with  me  into  the  St, 
James’s  and  had  drinks,  and  then  both  went  with  me  to  West- 
minsta  and  slept  at  my  place. 

You  say  that  distinctly? — I do. 

[Witness  denied  the  truth  of  the  account  given  by  the  Parkers 
a.s  to  the  events  subsequent  to  the  dinner.] 

How  did  Charles  Parka  live?— At  that  time  I understood  that 
he  had  an  allowance  from  his  father. 

Then  why  wae  you  keeping  him  at  your  house? — Oh,  his 
father  wouldn’t  give  him  any  money  then. 

You  did  not  know  that  he  was  penniless? — ^No. 

385 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Allred  Taylor 

Except  for  what  he  got  from  the  gentlemen  he  met?— Ah,  I 
didn't  know  of  that. 

Where  was  Parker  living  at  the  time  of  the  arrest  at  Fitzroy 
Square? — ^At  72  Regent  Street,  Chelsea. 

With  Wood? — I think  so. 

How  came  you  to  go  to  Fitzroy  Square? — ^It  was  by  Parker’s 
invitation.  He  had  two  tickets.  I supposed  if  was  a night  club, 
and  that  a ball  was  on. 

Did  you  see  men  there  dressed  as  women?— No. 

Did  you  see  them  outside  the  house? — ^No. 

After  the  arrests  did  you  see  Mariing  at  the  police  station? — Yes, 

What  was  Marling?— I understand  that  he  was  a betting  man. 

Where  did  you  first  meet  him?— At  the  Knightsbridge  Skating 
Rink.  I was  introduced  by  a young  man  named  Scarfe.  I under- 
stood Scarfe  had  just  returned  from  the  gold  diggings.  I intro- 
duced Scarfe  to  Mr.  Wilde  at  10  St.  James’s  Place.  I did  not  know 
that  he  was  the  son  of  a domestic  servant.  Marling  was  one  of  the 
men  arrested  in  the  raid  in  Fitzroy  Street.  At  that  time  I did  not 
know  him  to  be  a man  of  notorious  character,  hut  I have  heard  it 
Bnce.‘ 

When  did  you  fiist  make  the  acquaintance  of  Alfred  Wood?— 
In  May,  1S92. 

Where?- At  Atkins’s  rooms  in  Alderney  Street. 

Did  you  ever  dine  or  lunch  with  Wood  and  Mr.  Wilde  together? 
— ^No.  I know  nothing  of  the  introduction  of  Wood  to  Mr.  Wilde. 
I was  lunching  at  the  Florence  one  day,  and  saw  Mr.  Wilde, 
Schwabe  and  Wood  coming  downstairs  from  a private  room.  I 
remember  Mr.  Wilde  giving  Wood  money  to  go  to  America,  but 
I did  not  think  it  was  blackmail  or  that  the  money  was  demanded 
for  the  return  of  Mr.  Wilde’s  letters,  which  were  of  no  value. 

What  is  Mavor?— A gentleman.  I dined  with  him  the  night  I 
was  introduced  to  Mr.  Wilde. 

What  is  your  definition  of  a gentleman? — He  had  private  means. 

What  is  Mason? — ^He  is  also  a gendeman  in  that  sense.  He  is 
connected  with  a newspaper,  and  is  a very  busy  man. 

That  is  rather  a vague  descripdon? — ^Well,  he  possesses  a number 
of  shares  in  a newspaper,  I have  known  him  and  Macklin  for  many 
years.  He  is  a very  old  friend  of  mine.  1 have  known  him  dnee 
boyhood. 

He  visited  you? — ^Two  or  three  times  only,  I think. 


1 Marling  wai  later  (18^7)  sentenced  at  the  Central  Criminal  Court  to  five  years' 
eaal  servitude  for  recdving  stolen  goods.  The  ofience  was  connected  with  diat 
>r  which  the  blackmailer  Al^  was  sentenced  about  the  same  time.  Set  p.  243  above. 

286 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Allred  Taylor 

Did  you  induce  him  to  commit  a filthy  act  with  you? — ^Never. 
He  has  written  you  letters? — That  is  very  likely. 

I propose  to  read  one. 

[The  SolicitoR'Geneeal  read  the  following  letter  which  had 
been  found  in  a hatbox  which  Taylor  had  left  behind  in  his  rooms 
in  Chapel  Street.] 


144  Fleet  Street, 

ist  November,  1891. 

My  dear  Alfred, 

As  soon  as  you  can  afiord  it  do  let  me  have  some  money 
and  I shall  be  pleased  and  obliged.  I would  not  ask  you  if 
I could  get  any  myself,  but  you  know  the  business  is  not  so 
easy.  There  is  a lot  of  trouble  attached  to  it.  I have  not  met 
any  one  yet.  Come  home  soon,  dear,  and  let  us  go  out  some- 
times together.  Have  very  Hide  news.  Going  to  a dance  on 
Monday  and  to  the  theatre  to-night. 

With  much  love. 

Yours  always, 

CH/tBLia. 

Cross-examination  continued— i ask  you,  Taylor,  for  an  explana- 
tion, for  it  requires  one,  of  the  use  of  the  words,  “Come  home  soon, 
dear,”  as  between  two  men?— I don’t  see  anything  in  it.  (Witness 
laughed  nervously.) 

Nothing  in  it? — ^Well,  anyhow  I am  not  responsible  for  the 
expresrions  of  another. 

You  allowed  younelf  to  be  addressed  in  this  strain? — It’s  the 
way  you  read  it. 

Then  read  it  yourself,  sir,  and  tell  me  if  that  is  the  kind  of 
language  you  exchange  with  the  men  who  were  on  such  intimate 
terms  with  you  that  diey  slept  in  your  bed?— I don’t  see  anything 
in  that. 

[Sir  Eowakd  Claseb  moved  in  his  seat  as  if  to  rise,  and  said 
something  which  was  inaudible  to  those  in  Court.] 

The  Solicitor-Genebal  (to  Sir  Edward  Clarke)— You  are  not 
engaged  in  this  case. 

Mr.  Grain— But  I 

287 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Allred  Taylor 

Cross-examination  continued— Tki  you  call  it  a proper  letter, 
sir? — I think  it  is  a perfectly  proper  letter,  seeing  the  very  long 
friendship  which  had  eitistcd  between  us.  But,  remember,  I did 
not  write  the  letter. 

By  Mr.  Justice  Wills— In  this  letter  written  to  you  by  Mason, 
how  do  you  explain  the  passage  “I  have  not  met  anyone  yet”?— He 
had  been  expecting  someone  to  help  him  get  work. 

Cross-examination  continued— You  are  an  old  public  school  boy? 
—Yes. 

Was  it  not  repugnant  to  your  public  school  ideas,  this  habit  of 
sleeping  with  men? — Not  to  me.  Where  there  is  no  harm  done  I 
see  nothing  repugnant  in  it. 

Re-examined  by  Mr.  Grain — What  have  you  been  living  on 
since  your  bankruptcy? — One  of  my  brothers  has  been  allowing 
me  a certain  sum  of  money,  a very  small  sum. 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

[Mr.  Grain  said  he  thought  his  client  had  emerged  almost 
triumphantly  from  a trying  ordeal,  and  that  the  jury  would  have  no 
further  doubt,  adding  Taylor's  denials  on  oath  to  the  inherent 
improbabilides  of  the  case,  in  finding  him  not  guilty  of  the  charges 
— diarges  which  were  supported  only  by  the  tainted  evidence  of 
men,  every  one  of  whom  had  left  the  witness-box  a self-confessed 
criminal.  Counsel  relied,  in  short,  on  the  undoubted  fact  that 
there  was  no  direct  independent  corroboradon.  He  contended  that 
there  was  not  the  slightest  corroboration  of  any  kind  of  the  state- 
ments of  the  lads  Parker,  and  the  jury  ought  not  to  convict  on 
their  statements  alone,  as  they  were  tainted  witnesses.  With  regard 
to  the  charge  of  procuring,  counsel  submitted  that  the  prosecudon 
had  altogether  failed  to  make  out  a case.  He  argued  that  when  a 
man  or  a woman  took  to  the  abominable  business  of  procuring 
young  men  for  immoral  purposes,  they  did  so  for  gain.  But  in 
this  case  there  had  never  been  any  suggestion  that  Taylor  had  ever 
received  money  from  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde.  It  had  not  been  shown 
that  he  had  extracted  one  penny  piece  from  anyone  in  respect  of 
the  crimes  imputed  to  him,  and  consequently  there  was  no  motive 
disclosed. 

Speaking  of  the  tactics  of  the  Solidtor-General  in  suddenly  and 
dramatically  calling  Harrington  into  the  Court  to  confront  Taylor, 
288 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Allied  Taylor 

counsel  said  that,  as  a humble  member  of  the  Bar,  he  could  not 
dictate,  but  he  must  say  that  if  that  was  a fair  and  just  method 
for  a counsel  of  the  Crown  to  adopt,  he  was  very  sorry.  The  detail 
of  the  Solicitor-General’s  cross-examination  was  remarkable,  and 
Taylor’s  evidence  under  those  circumstances  compared  admirably 
with  the  tainted  evidence  produced  by  the  Crown.  Taylor  had  had 
ample  opportunity  for  so  doing,  and  his  whole  demeanour  was 
incompatible  with  that  of  a guilty  man.  Had  he  acceded  to 
ex-Inspector  Litdechild’s  request,  he  would  not  have  been  in  the 
dock,  but  would  be  a witness  for  the  Crown.  In  conclusion,  counsel 
begged  the  jury  to  clear  their  minds  of  all  preconceived  notions,  and 
to  give  the  accused  the  benefit  of  every  reasonable  doubt.] 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

[The  Solicitor-General  went  minutely  through  the  evidence, 
and  submitted  that  the  corroboration  was  as  strong  as  it  well  could 
be  in  a case  of  this  sort.  If  stronger  corroboration  were  needed  for 
a conviction,  he  was  afraid  that  this  terrible  vice  would  rear  its 
head  in  our  midst  unchecked.  How  could  there  be  direct  indepen- 
dent corroboration?  Of  its  very  nature  that  thing  was  done  secredy. 
He  treated  it  as  an  accepted  fact  that  Taylor's  rooms  in  Litde 
College  Street  were  “a  place  taken  in  this  seduded  street  as  a place 
where  persons  who  had  these  filthy  appetites  might  meet  and  gratify 
them.”  For  what  honest  purpose,  counsel  asked,  could  the  ill- 
assorted  dinner-parties  at  Kettner’s  have  been  brought  together? 

Some  remarks  of  counsel  as  to  the  evidence  of  a Savoy  Hotel 
waiter,  in  the  previous  trial,  caused  Mr.  Grain  to  protest  that  it 
would  be  impossible  for  him  to  call  Mr.  Wilde  to  give  evidence  for 
Taylor,  since  Wilde  himself  was  awaiting  trial  at  that  moment.] 

The  Soliciior-Genera^-You  could  not  be  expected  to  call  Mr. 
Oscar  Wilde.  I shall  tell  the  jury  that. 

[The  Solicitor-General  continued  that  he  agreed  with  Mr. 
Grain  as  to  the  grave  nature  of  the  charge  and  the  responsibility 
that  lay  upon  himself  (the  Solicitor-General)  in  having  to  establish 
the  charges  that  had  been  made.  But  he  had  listened  patiently  to 
the  remarks  as  to  the  character  of  the  evidence.  What  kind  of 
corroboration  did  his  learned  friend  expect  to  be  produced?  If  the 
prosecution  were  bound  to  produce  direct  evidence,  they  would  be 
powerless  to  check  this  vice,  They  were  asked  not  to  believe  Charles 
t 289 


Oscar  Wilde. 


The  Solldtor-Generol 

Parker  because  he  had  been  mixed  up  with  hlackmailingj  but  was 
there  one  word  to  suggest  that  Parkei-  had  ever  attempted  to  black- 
mail Taylor  or  even  attempted  to  blackmail  Mr.  Wilde?  What 
had  Parker  to  gain,  and  how  much  had  he  got  to  lose  by  the  story 
he  had  told?  Though  they  would  be  shunned  and  loathed,  yet  it 
had  not  been  able  to  be  shown  that  they  had  gained  one  penny  or 
had  any  object  in  coming  to  the  Court. 

At  half-past  one,  before  the  Solicitor-Genirai  had  finished  his 
speech  for  the  prosecution,  the  Court  adjourned  for  luncheon. 
Twenty  minutes  after  the  resumption  of  the  sitting,  the  SoLtoim- 
General  brought  his  address  to  a somewhat  sudden  end.  Having 
gone  entirely  through  the  evidence,  he  told  the  jury  that  if  they 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  story  of,  the  Parkers  was  true,  they 
were  not  to  shrink  from  giving  a verdict  of  guilty.] 

Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — [Having  dealt  first  with  the  abstract  ques- 
tion of  the  need  of  corroboration  in  such  a case,  bis  lordship 
(ontinued : ] In  charges  of  such  a dreadful  character,  there  would 
be  a great  terror  added  to  life  if  the  rule  were  not  observed  as  to 
the  necessity  of  insisting  on  inde^dent  corroboration.  If  I had 
not  thought  that  in  respect  of  all  these  charges  there  was  corrobora- 
tive evidence  fit  to  be  submitted  to  you  in  respect  of  each  one  of 
these,  which  did  not  depend  on  the  testimony  of  their  accomplices, 
I should  most  undoubtedly  have  stopped  the  case.  The  weight  of 
such  corroboration  is  entirely  a question  for  you,  gentlemen  of  the 

jury- 

[His  lordship  observed  that,  up  to  the  point  where  indecency 
was  alleged,  the  greater  part  of  the  evidence  for  the  Crown  was 
admitted.  He  went  on  to  say.J  It  is  evidence  that  shows  an 
association  between  men  of  education  and  position  with  uneducated 
men-servants,  and  this  is  certainly  remarkable.  The  two  Parkers 
have  declared  that  improper  conduct  took  place,  and  in  my  opinion 
there  is  sufficient  corroboration  to  warrant  the  case  going  to  the 
jury.  It  is  for  you  to  say  whether  in  your  opinion  it  is  corrobora- 
tion that  should  weigh  with  you.  'It  may  very  well  be  that,  although 
there  is  evidence  proper  to  be  left  to  the  jury,  you  may  not  think  it 
sufficient  to  justify  you  in  convicting  the  prisoner. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Parkers  were  introduced  to 
Wilde  by  Taylor.  Now,  as  to  the  charge  of  procuration,  the 
question  divides  itself  into  two  heads — ^the  introduction  and  the 
object  of  it.  Unless  you  think  that  this  introduction  of  the  Parkers 
ago 


Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Mi,  Joitice  Willi 

to  Wilde  by  Taylor  led  to  the  consequences  which  have  been 
alleged,  it  is  nothing;  and,  if  it  led  to  such  consequences  without 
Taylor’s  knowledge,  it  is  equally  nothing.  And  unless  you  ate 
satisfied  as  to  the  subsequent  stories  told  by  Charles  Parker,  the 
introduction  amounts  to  nothing.  God  forbid  that  I should  for 
a moment  entertain  the  thought  that  for  a man  to  give  another  a 
supper— no  matter  how  greatly  removed  socially  they  were — was 
sufficient  ground  for  suspicion;  nay,  not  even  though  the  one  gave 
money  to  the  other. 

If  Mr.  Wilde  knew  that  these  young  Parkers  were  improperly 
sharing  the  same  bed  with  Taylor,  it  is  a strange  thing  that  a man 
of  his  education  should  have  admitted  them,  or  even  Taylor,  to 
his  intimacy.  Knowing  too  what  we  do  about  the  life  and  manners 
of  this  country,  was  not  the  giving  of  such  a dinner  to  such  young 
men  sufficient  to  give  foundation  for  such  a story  as  has  now  been 
told?  However,  the  suspicious  part  of  the  incident  has  been  denied 
by  Taylor,  and  it  is  for  you  to  decide  for  yourselves  whether  the 
Parkers  are  to  be  believed  or  Taylor. 

[After  analysing  the  evidence  in  detail,  his  lordship  concluded : ] 
It  will  be  an  ill  day  for  the  administration  of  justice  when  juries 
do  not  think  and  act  for  themselves.  Speaking  for  myself,  I would 
say  that  I am  absolutely  impartial,  and  that  I have  no  thought  but 
to  strive  to  do  my  duty.  Anything  I have  said  that  may  seem  to 
be  either  for  one  side  or  the  other  you  should  discard.  You  must 
judge  for  yourselves  whether  the  evidence  is  conclusive  or  not.  The 
counts  upon  which  you  have  to  give  a verdict  are  those  charging 
the  prisoner  with  procuring  the  Parkers  for  Wilde,  and  those  alleg- 
ing indecent  behaviour  by  the  prisoner  towards  the  Parkers.  The 
other  counts,  which  charge  Taylor  with  procuring  Wood  for  Wilde 
must  fail,  because  it  has  been  shown  that  Wood’s  introduction  to 
Mr.  Wilde  did  not  take  place  through  Taylor.  If  you  have  any 
reasonable  doubt  as  to  the  prisoner’s  guilt,  he  is  entitled  to  the 
benefit  of  it.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  believe  that  the  charges 
against  the  prisoner  have  been  satisfactorily  proved,  you  have  but 
one  duty,  though  it  is  a sad  one,  to  perform. 

The  Jury  retired  to  consider  their  verdict  at  twenty  minutes 
past  three.  They  returned  into  Court  at  five  minutes  past  four. 


Verdict, 

The  Foreman  of  the  Jury — My  lord,  we  cannot  agree  on  the 
exact  wording  of  the  counts  charging  the  prisoner  with  procuring. 
291 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  Jnrtlct  WlIIi 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — I think  the  best  thing  to  do  is  for  me  to 
write  down  for  you  the  exact  words  of  these  counts  in  the  indict- 
ment. [His  lordship  wrote  down  the  material  parts  of  counts  2 
and  3,  which  were  handed  to  the  jury.  He  continued : J Axe  you 
agreed  upon  the  other  counts,  gendemen? 

The  Foseman-— Yes,  we  are  agreed. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — ^In  that  case  I think  it  will  be  sufficient  to 
take  your  verdict  upon  those  counts,  and  I need  not  trouble  you 
with  respect  to  the  other  count.  Is  the  Solicitor-General  in 
attendance? 

Mr.  Avoet— I have  sent  for  him,  my  lord. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— I cannot  see  any  earthly  reason  for  dealing 
with  the  other  counts,  but  I ivill  wait  and  hear  what  the  Solicitor- 
General  has  to  say. 

[Soon  afterwards  the  Solicitor-Genebai.  came  into  Court  and, 
after  consulting  with  his  junior  counsel,  Mr,  Gill,  said  that,  as  far 
as  the  prosecudon  was  concerned,  they  would  take  the  verdict 
given  by  the  jury  upon  counts  8 and  9. 

Mr.  Grain,  on  behalf  of  Taylor,  concurred.] 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — suppom  the  jury  can  be  discharged  with 
regard  to  the  second  and  third  counts — those  of  procuring? 

The  SoLioiTOR-GENERAi^Yes,  my  lord. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns— Gentlemen,  do  you  find  the  prisoner 
at  the  bar  guilty  of  having  committed  an  act  of  gross  indecency? 

The  Foreman— Guilty. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns — ^And  do  you  find  the  prisoner  at  the 
bar  guilty  of  having  committed  an  act  of  gross  indecency  with 
William  Parker? 

The  Foreman— Guilty. 

[On  his  lordship’s  direction  the  jury  returned  a verdict  of  Not 
Guilty  on  the  counts  charging  Taylor  with  procuring  Wood  for 
292 


Verdict. 


Mr.  Jiutice  WIUi 

Wilde  (counts  14  and  15).  Having  failed  to  agree  on  the  counts 
charging  Taylor  with  procuring  Charles  and  William  Parker  for 
Wilde  (counts  2 and  3),  the  jury  were  discharged  from  giving  a 
verdict  on  those  counts.] 

Mr.  Justice  Wais — I will  postpone  sentence  until  after  the 
charges  against  Wilde  have  been  heard. 

(Taylor  was  removed  from  the  dock  and  taken  to  the  cells 
below.) 

Sir  Edwasd  Clahke— With  regard  to  the  case  of  the  other 
defendant.  Mr.  Wilde  is  here  in  attendance,  of  course;  but  it  is 
getting  late,  and,  perhaps,  after  a second  jury  has  disagreed  in  this 
matter 

The  Solicitok-Genekal — I must  object  to  my  learned  friend 
taking  this  opportunity  of  making  these  litde  speeches. 

Mr.  Justice  Wnis— You  can  hardly  call  it  a disagreement,  Sir 
Edward.  If  it  is  material  to  go  on  at  once  with  this  case  I should 
not  for  a moment  think  of  discharging  the  jury,  and  should  have 
kept  them  here  for  two  or  three  hours  more. 

The  SouaTOR-GENESAL— It  was  merely  the  expectancy  that  some 
such  use  might  be  attempted  to  be  made  of  the  decision  that  caused 
me,  even  for  a moment,  to  hesitate  to  take  the  verdict,  but  I was 
perfectly  satisfied  that  the  verdict  should  be  entered. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — Sir  Edward,  do  you  say  you  prefer  it 
should  be  taken  to-morrow  morning? 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— I am  quite  content  to  proceed  now  if  the 
Crown  is  going  on— but  with  a different  jury,  of  course. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— I think  we  ought  to  have  another  jury. 

The  Solicitor-General — think,  perhaps,  my  lord,  it  would 
be  better  that  we  should  commence  it  to-morrow  morning. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — ^Very  well.  I may  repeat  what  I said 
yesterday,  that  I was  most  anxious  to  keep  these  two  cases  separate, 
and  in  these  circumstances,  gentlemen,  having  heard  the  evidence 

2p3 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  JuitUe  'WHli 

in  this  case,  I think  it  is  most  proper,  in  the  interest  of  securing  a 
fair  trial,  that  you  should  not  try  the  next  case,  and  that  it  should 
be  heard  by  a jury  from  the  next  Court  who  have  heard  nothing  in 
this  case  at  all. 


Third  Trial.  Third  Day— Wednesday,  22nd  May,  189S. 
The  Case  Against  Wilde. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns  [having  read  out  the  following  counts  in 
the  indictment  against  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertis  Wills  Wilde— 
Counts  I,  4,  5,  6,  13,  18,  19,  and  25,  concluded : J To  this  indict- 
ment the  prisoner  pleads  not  guilty. 

The  Jury  were  sworn. 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

The  Solicitor-General— May  it  please  your  lordship,  gentlemen 
of  the  jury— 1 am  bound  to  assume  that,  as  you  are  an  entirely 
fresh  jury,  you  arc  totally  ignorant  of  all  the  facts  which  have  been 
elucidated  in  the  previous  trial  of  the  prisoner.  It  will,  therefore, 
be  necessary  to  go  through  the  case  again  in  detail.  As  for  the 
defendant  personally,  I will  content  myself  with  saying  that  he  is 
a man  of  literary  attainments  and  the  author  of  various  dramatic 
works  of  power  and  interest.  The  defendant  is  charged  with  having 
committed  offences  under  sec.  ii  of  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment 
Act  of  1885  on  certain  days  between  20th  February,  1892,  and  22nd 
October,  1893.  [Counsel  read  the  relevant  section  of  the  statute, 
and  continued:]  I propose  to  deal  with  these  cases  in  the  order 
in  which  they  are  alleged  to  have  occurred. 

t Counsel  recalled  the  circumstances  in  which  Wilde  met  Edward 
ey,  and  continued:]  There  is  independent  corroboration  of 
this  witness’s  story,  though  it  does  not  go  the  length  of  describing 
the  actual  accomplishment  of  the  oSences.  Acts  like  those  alleged 
are  not  committed  in  the  light  of  day,  but  as  far  as  possible  with 
the  strictest  secrecy  and  concealment. 

In  January,  1893,  the  prisoner  made  the  acquaintance  of  Alfred 
Wood,  a young  clerk  out  of  employment,  who  was  at  that  time 
living  at  13  Litde  College  Street,  Westminster,  a house  occupied 
by  a man  of  the  name  of  Taylor.  It  was  a curious  introduction,  that 
of  Wood  to  the  prisoner.  Wood  was  summoned  by  a telegram 
294 


opening  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

The  S«Ueltar.aeiural 

from  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  to  the  Caf£  Royal,  and  was  there 
accosted  by  Wilde,  taken  to  dinner  at  the  Florence  in  Rupert 
Street,  and  afterwards  to  Wilde’s  own  house  in  Tite  Street,  where 
the  offences  charged  in  the  indictment  are  alleged  to  have  taken 
place.  A few  weeks  later  Wilde  provided  Wood  with  funds  to  go 
to  America.  On  the  day  after  giving  him  this  money,  Wilde  was 
still  apparently  on  good  terms  with  Wood,  and  he  entertained  him 
to  lunch  in  a luxurious  manner.  That  was  in  March,  1893.  A 
meeting  between  Wilde  and  Wood  was  then  arranged  in  Taylor’s 
rooms  in  Little  College  Street.  At  this  meeting  Wilde  gave  ^£30 
to  Wood  in  return  for  certain  letters  of  his  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
which  had  come  into  Wood’s  possession.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see 
what  that  transaction  meant.  Yet  on  the  next  day,  after  entertain- 
ing Wood  to  lunch,  Wilde  gave  him  an  additional  Wood  then 
went  to  America. 

[Counsel  proceeded  to  deal  with  the  alleged  offences  with 
persons  unknown  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  in  March,  1893,  when  Wilde 
was  staying  at  the  hotel  with  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  He  went  on : 1 
Of  the  occurrences  there  you  will  hear  the  valuable  corroborative 
evidence  of  the  hotel  servants. 

The  last  secdon  of  the  case  against  the  prisoner  is  that  in  which 
Wilde  is  charged  with  misconduct  at  the  Savoy  Hotel,  and  at 
rooms  which  he  occupied  at  10  St  James’s  Place,  with  the  youth 
Charles  Parker.  Now,  Charles  Parker  was  introduced  to  the 
prisoner  by  the  man  named  Taylor.  It  will  be  shown  that  Charles 
Parker  and  his  brother,  William,  were  introduced  to  Wilde  by 
Taylor  in  March,  1893,  at  a dinner  given  by  the  prisoner  at 
Kettner’s  Restaurant.  After  a most  sumpmous  dinner  Wilde  took 
Charles  Parker  to  the  Savoy  Hotel,  and  the  visit  was  repeated  a 
week  later,  the  prisoner  giving  the  youth  money  on  both  occasions. 
Parker’s  story  is  corroborated  in  the  most  convincing  manner. 
Wilde  met  Parker  from  time  to  time,  and  gave  him  presents, 
including  a cigarette  case  and  a gold  chain  ring.  At  the  end  of 
1893  Wilde  appeared  to  have  taken  rooms  in  St.  James’s  Place, 
where  Parker  paid  frequent  visits.  Wilde  took  him  also  to  various 
places  of  amusement,  and  visited  him  on  one  occasion  at  his  apart- 
ments in  Park  Walk,  Chelsea.  The  last  occasion  of  their  meeting 
was  in  the  street.  Wilde  got  out  of  a cab,  shook  hands  with 
Charles  Parker,  and  said  he  was  looking  as  pretty  as  ever.  Charles 
Parker’s  evidence  is  further  corroborated  by  that  of  his  brother, 
William;  and  further  corroboration  wiE  be  given  by  a waiter  at  the 
Savoy  Hotel;  by  a lodger  at  the  house  in  Park  Walk;  and  by  a 
waiter  at  St.  James’s  Place,  and  by  other  witnesses.  I would  like 
295 


Oscar  Wilde. 


TUe  Sollcitor-Generat 

to  have  some  explanation  of  the  prisoner’s  relationship  with  the 
ex-valet  and  the  ex-groom  who  were  living  in  a poor  lodging  in 
Hunter  Street,  Brunswick  Square. 

Gentlemen,  I have  endeavoured  to  limit  myself  to  a plain  and 
simple  statement  of  the  class  of  testimony  which  the  prosecution  is 
in  a position  to  cali  before  you.  In  conclusion,  I can  only  invite 
your  very  earnest  and  careful  attention  to  the  evidence,  for  it  is 
upon  this  evidence  that  the  defendant  must  be  judged  and  not  upon 
any  statement  made  by  counsel. 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Edwaxd  Shellev,  examined  by  Mr.  Gill — [Witness  repeated 
the  evidence  he  had  given  in  his  examination-in-eWf  at  the  fotmet 
trial] 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke— My  close  intimacy  with 
the  prisoner  lasted  only  three  months,  and  it  terminated  nine  or  te» 
months  before  I left  the  employment  of  Mathews  Sc  Lane.  I* 
March,  1893,  I went  to  see  Mr.  Wilde  at  the  Savoy  Hotel,  where 
we  quarrelled.  I told  him  not  to  be  a beast,  and  he  expressed  his 
sorrow.  “I  am  so  fond  of  you,  Edward,”  he  said.  After  that  visit 
I wrote  to  Mr.  Wilde  saying  that  I would  not  see  him  again.  I 
think  now  that  attempts  at  improprieties  took  place  on  two 
occasions.  On  the  first  occasion  I was  not  quite  sober.  I was 
excited,  but  not  drunk.  I resented  the  prisoner’s  acts  at  the  time. 

Then  why  did  you  go  again?— I was  weak,  of  course. 

Within  what  space  of  time  did  these  two  incidents  take  place? 
— Within  a week. 

Did  you  think  Mr.  Wilde  had  also  had  too  much  to  drink? — 
No,  I did  not. 

Then  it  did  not  seem  to  you  an  accidental  occurrence?— No,  1 
was  entrapped.  He  knew  I admired  him  very  much,  and  he  took 
advantage  of  me,  of  my  admiration,  and  of— I won’t  say  my 
innocence — don't  know  what  to  call  it. 

Has  Mr.  Wilde  ever  given  you  money? — Yes,  long  afterwards. 

Not  at  the  price  of  consenting  to  this?— No. 

[Witness  said  he  had  read  a good  deal  of  the  lighter  forms  of 
literature,  dramatic  and  poetic,  and  had  “written  a few  things.” 
Mr,  Wilde  used  to  ask  him  to  let  him  sec  them,  but  the  wimeis 
thought  they  were  too  poor  to  show  him.] 

206 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Edvud  SlieUey 

Have  you  ever  published  any  works  o£  your  own? — I have 
written  some,  but  have  not  published  anything. 

Despite  what  you  allege  to  have  happened,  did  your  friendship 
for  Mr.  Wilde  continue  up  to  the  spring  of  1893?— Yes. 

Did  you  make  any  other  mistake  in  the  evidence  you  gave  at 
the  Police  Court?— I hope  not. 

[Sir  Edward  Clame  then  read  the  two  following  letters  which 
Shelley  had  written  to  Wilde.] 

Sunday  evening,  21st  February,  1892. 
Dear  Mr.  Oscar  Wdde, 

I must  again  thank  you  for  the  “House  of  Pomegranates" 
and  the  theatre  ticket.  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  send  them 
to  me  and  I shall  never  forget  your  kindness.  What  a triumph 
was  yours  last  night  I The  play  is  the  best  I have  seen  on  the 
stage,  with  such  beauty  of  form  and  wit  that  it  adds  a new 
phase  of  pleasure  to  existence.  Could  Lady  Blessington  live 
anew  the  conversations  would  make  her  jealous.  George 
Meredith  might  have  signed  it.  How  miserably  poor  every- 
thing else  seems  beside  itl  Except,  of  course,  your  books— 
but  then  your  books  arc  part  of  yourself.* 

Srhe  second  letter  from  Shelley  to  Wilde  was  dated  ayth 
cr,  1892.  It  was  as  follows:] 

My  dear  Oscar, 

Will  you  be  at  home  on  Sunday  evening  next?  I am  most 
anxious  to  see  you.  I would  have  called  this  evening  but  I 
am  suffering  from  nervousness,  the  result  of  insomnia,  and 
am  obliged  to  remain  at  home.  I have  longed  to  see  you  all 
through  the  week.  I have  much  to  tell  you.  Do  not  think 
me  forgetful  in  not  coirung  before,  because  I shall  never  forget 
your  kindness  and  am  conscious  that  I can  never  sufiiciently 
express  my  thankfulness  to  you. 

Cross-examination  continued— Hovi,  Mr.  Shelley,  do  you  mean 
to  tell  the  jury  that,  having  in  your  mind  that  this  man  had  behaved 
disgracefully  towards  you,  you  wrote  this  letter? — ^Yes,  .because 
after  these  two  occurrences  he  treated  me  very  well.  He  seemed 
really  sorry  for  what  he  had  done. 


a The  '‘triumph"  of  the  previous  night  referred  to  the  first  production  of 
Lady  WindirmerCs  Fan,  nt  the  St.  Jamcl’a  Theatre,  on  noth  Februaty,  iSpa. 

297 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Sdwntd  Shelley 

He  introduced  you  to  his  home? — Yes,  to  his  wife,  I dined 
with  them  twice,  and  he  seemed  to  take  a real  interest  in  me.  He 
offered  me  £ioo  to  enable  me  to  go  away  and  study,  but  I refused 
it.  Mr,  Lane,  my  employer,  also  offered  to  help  me,  but  I refused 
his  assistance  also.  I wrote  to  Wilde  about  “the  brutal  insults 
from  Vigo  Street”  I had  received  and  I told  him  of  the  “horrible 
harsh  existence”  I was  leading  there.  After  leaving  the  Bodley 
Head  1 took  a clerkship  in  the  city.  Later  I wrote  of  giving  this  up 
and  going  down  to  live  in  Chelsea  and  read  with  a coadi  in  the 
evening.  My  parents  had  accu^d  me  of  idleness,  and  that  was 
why  I wrote  of  “eating  the  bitter  food  of  charity  and  contempt.” 
I left  my  employment  in  the  dty  shortly  before  the  Queensberry 
case  came  on.  I have  no  employment  now.  The  only  money 
the  prisoner  gave  me  in  1894  was  ten  shillings  at  Ketmer’s 
Restaurant. 

[Counsel  read  another  letter  from  the  witness,  dated  35th  April, 

1894.  ] 


Oscar, 

I want  to  go  away  and  rest  somewhere — I think  in 
Cornwall— for  two  weeks.  I am  determined  to  live  a truly 
Christian  life  and  I accept  poverty  as  part  of  my  religion. 
But  I must  have  health.  I have  so  much  to  do  for  my  mother. 

CmS'examinaUon  continued— have  you  to  do  for  your 
mother?— I pay  for  my  keep. 

That  is  more  like  doing  something  for  yourself.  Have  you  a 
brother  who  is  permanently  unwell? — Yes. 

Is  his  mind  disordered?— Yes. 

[Counsel  continued  reading  from  the  letter.] 

I am  an  artist.  I know  that  I am.  Will  you  see  if  you 
can  lend  me  till  Christmas?  I can  repay  it  by  that  time. 
I must  have  rest.  I am  weak  and  ill.  1 am  so  thin,  they 
think  me  strange. 

Cross-examination  continued— The  prisoner  did  not  send  the 
J[io  so  I wrote  again,  asking  for  assistance  in  finding  a place  in 
a publisher’s  or  newspaper  office. 

[Counsel  read  an  extract  from  this  letter.] 

298 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Edward  Sbeltaj 

1 would  accept  nothing  from  that  viper  John  Lane.  He 
hurt  me  too  much.  I despise  him,  but  I cannot  forget. 

Cross-examination  continued — ^Why  a viper,  Mr.  Shelley? — 
I ought  not  to  have  used  the  word.  I was  angry  with  him. 

Angry  about  what?— Mr.  Lane  had  Cried  to  make  me  break  off 
my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Wilde. 

That  is,  Mr.  Lane  had  offered  to  find  you  money  to  enable  you 
to  change  your  place  of  employment  in  order  to  get  out  of  the  way 
of  Mr.  Wilde?-Yes. 

You  ought  to  have  been  glad  and  grateful  to  Mr.  Lane,  for  you 
knew  then  what  kind  of  man  Mr.  Wilde  was?— Yes,  but 

Why  weren't  you?— It  was  human  nature,  I suppose— a failing. 

Your  human  nature?— A failing  of  human  nature. 

[In  another  letter  Shelley  wrote  to  Wilde : “You  have  deadly 
enemies  in  London.  Hence  the  Daily  News  article.”’] 

Sir  Edwam  Clarke— Was  your  mental  health  getting  worse 
and  worse?— I made  myself  ill  with  studwng. 

Were  you  worse  than  you  are  to-day?— There  is  nothing  the 
matter  with  me  now. 

You  are  sure  of  that?— Quite  sure. 

[Counsel  read  an  extract  from  another  letter  from  the  witness 
to  the  prisoner.] 

I am  afraid  sometimes  I am  not  very  sane.  I feel  so 
nervous  and  ill. 

Cross-examination  continued— -Id  January,  1895,  I assaulted  my 
father  and  was  locked  up.  When  I was  arrested  I sent  for  Mr. 
Wilde  to  bail  me  out.  I was  not  in  my  right  mind  that  day.  I 
ctrtainly  could  not  have  been  sane  to  assault  my  father. 

Re-examined  by  the  Solicitor-General— At  the  time  I was  at 
Vigo  Street,  before  I knew  Mr.  Wilde,  I was  contented  and  happy. 

[Mr.  Elkin  Mathews  and  Mr.  Aloys  Louis  Vogel  repeated  the 
evidence  they  gave  at  the  former  trial] 


3 '*Mt.  Oscar  Wilde  and  Edgar  Foe/'  a review  o£  The  Sphinx,  in  the  Dtilf 
Nem,  nth  June,  1^4. 


299 


Oscar  Wilde, 


Allred  Wood 

Alfred  Wood,  examined  by  Mr.  Gild— [Witness  repeated  the 
evidence  he  gave  during  his  examinadon-in-chief  at  the  former 
trial.] 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarks — am  a clerk  out  of 
employment.  I have  earned  a litde  by  working  for  my  brother, 
a mrf  commission  agent,  in  Upper  Islington.  When  I occupied 
rooms  at  ya  Regent  Street,  Chelsea,  Charles  Parker  behaved 
indecently  with  a gentleman  in  my  bedroom.  Allen,  Charles 
Parker  and  I obtained  money  from  the  gentleman.  I got  ,£175  out 
of  a sum  of  ,£400  or  ,^500. 

Why  were  you  given  ;Ci75? — I suppose  it  was  blackmailing, 
but  I did  not  know  it  then. 

Where  was  the  money  paid? — ^Near  the  stadon  at  Charing 
Cross. 

Did  you  give  Parker  any  of  the  money? — ^Allen  did. 

How  much?— ,£30. 

How  long  ago  was  it  that  you  left  your  employment  as  a 
clerk  in  the  city?— I cannot  remember.  I cannot  say  whether  or 
not  it  was  in  1890. 

Since  you  left  that  employment,  have  you  ever  earned  any 
money  honestly?— Yes,  when  I worked  for  my  brother.  I also 
received  about  £100  under  my  late  father’s  will.  It  was  paid  to 
me  by  a solicitor,  a Mr.  Tidy  of  Sackville  Street,  The  exact 
amount  of  the  legacy  was  >([88  as.  lod. 

How  long  had  you  known  Allen?— From  March  or  April,  1893. 
On  what  date  did  you  go  to  America?— I arrived  on  the  furst 
of  April,  1893. 

Did  you  say  at  the  Police  Court  that  when  you  went  to  Ml. 
Wilde’s  house  on  a certain  occasion  you  were  drunk? — I was  not 
drunk,  but  I had  had  too  much  to  drink.  I knew  what  I was 
doing. 

Was  there  anybody  else  besides  you  and  Allen  and  Charles 
Parker  in  the  distribution  of  the  money  you  obtained  from  a 
gendeman?— No,  no  one  else. 

Have  you  had  other  transactions  of  the  same  kind?— No. 

How  long  had  you  been  back  from  America? — I came  back  in 
May. 

Where  ate  you  living  now?— At  Bromley  Terrace,  Greenwich. 
Are  you  lodging  there?— I am  living  with  a deteedve. 

A Crown  detective?— Yea. 

You  have  met  Lord  Alfred  Douglas?— Yes,  at  his  rooms  at  the 
Varaty. 


300 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution, 

Allred  Wood 

He  was  kind  to  you?— Yes.  He  gave  me  a suit  of  clothes  while 
I was  there. 

And  you  found  two  letters  in  one  of  the  pockets? — ^Yes. 

Who  from? — From  Mr.  Wilde  to  Lord  Alfred. 

How  did  they  begin? — One  was  addressed  “Dear  Alfred”  and 
another  to  "Dear  Bosie.” 

What  happened  to  the  letters?— Allen  stole  them.  He  after- 
wards returned  one,  but  kept  one  back.  Allen  said  to  me,  "This 
one’s  quite  hot  enough.”  I did  not  know  what  Allen  meant  by 
the  words  "hot  enough.” 

Did  you  tell  Mr.  Wilde  that  Allen  said  that  letter  was  “hot 
enough"  for  him? — No. 

Did  you  ever  read  the  letter  yourself? — don’t  think  I did. 

Why  did  you  not  return  the  other  letter  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas? 
—I  didn’t  know  his  address. 

How  long  had  you  been  carrying  about  these  letters? — ^About 
a month. 

How  many  had  you  got  in  the  first  instance? — ^There  may 
have  been  two  or  three. 

During  the  month  had  those  letters  been  taken  out  of  your 
possession?— Yes.  They  were  taken  out  of  my  pocket  by  Allen. 

You  went  to  Mr.  Wilde  and  asked  him  for  money? — ^Yes.  I 
told  him  that  I was  tired  of  life,  tired  of  those  big  dinners,  and 
ired  of  mixing  with  Wilde  and  Douglas  and  those  people. 

Did  you  tell  Mr.  Wilde  that  you  wanted  to  get  away  from 
some  bad  companions?— Yes. 

Did  you  mention  Allen  as  a person  you  wanted  to  get  away 
from?— I did. 

Re-examined  by  the  Soucrroa-GENEXAi,— Where  did  you  first 
meet  Lord  Alfred  Douglas? — At  Taylor’s  rooms  in  Little  College 
Street. 

Then  you  visited  him  at  the  University? — ^Yes.  I have  also 
seen  Lord  Alfred  and  Mr.  Wilde  together  in  the  same  room  at 
the  Savoy  Hotel. 

On  what  terms  did  Lord  Alfred  and  Mr.  Wilde  appear  to 
be? 


[Sir  Edward  Clarke  successfully  objected  to  this  question;  and 
the  re-examination  concluded.] 

Charles  Parker,  examined  by  Mr.  Gild— [Witness  repeated  the 
evidence  he  gave  during  his  examination-in-chief  at  the  former 
trial.] 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Charles  Parker 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke — ^Are  you  the  Charles 
Parker  who  got  /30  as  blackmail  from  a gentleman  who  committed 
indecent  practices  with  you  f— Yes. 

Where  did  those  practices  take  place?— At  my  place,  y Camera 
Square,  Chelsea.'* 

Where  are  you  living  now? — ^At  Chiswick  with  my  brother. 
Since  the  last  trial  I have  been  maintained  at  the  expense  of  the 
prosecution..  Both  my  brother  and  I ate  under  the  cate  of  a detec- 
tive employed  by  the  Crown.  I have  not  done  any  military  duty 
since  March  of  this  year. 


Third  Trial.  Fourth  Day— Thursday,  23rd  May,  1895. 

Evidence  for  the  Prosecution— continued. 

WiLUAM  Parker,  examined  by  the  Solicitor-General— 
[^Witness  repeated  the  evidence  which  he  had  given  in  his  exaraina- 
tion-in-chief  at  the  former  trial.] 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke— Did  you  know  your 
brother  was  going  to  the  Savoy  Hotel  for  an  indecent  purpose?— 
That  is  what  Taylor  gave  us  to  undei'stand, 

Did  you  hear  such  a proposal  made  to  your  brother  and  not 
interfere  to  prevent  it?— No,  I didn’t  then. 

Had  you  intended  to  do  the  same  sort  of  thing  yourself?— Yea, 
perhaps. 

You  were  perfectly  sober? — Yes. 

Ro-examined  by  the  SOLiciTOR-GENERAi^What  had  Taylor  said 
to  you?— [Sir  Edward  Clarke  olqected  to  this  question,  and  Mr, 
Justice  Wills  upheld  the  objection.  The  Solicitor-General  there- 
upon resumed  Us  seat.] 

Charles  Robinson,  examined  by  Mr.  Gill — [TUs  witness,  a 
bookkeeper  in  the  Savoy  Hotel,  repeated  the  evidence  which  he  had 
given  at  the  Urmer  trial.] 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke— I was  asked  for  a copy 
of  Mr.  Wilde’s  bill  at  the  hotel  about  a week  before  the  Police 
Court  proceedings. 


*It  will  be  seen  that  this  statement  contiadicted  that  of  the  previous  witness, 
Wood,  who  swore  that  the  incident  took  place  in  his  (Wood’s)  rooms  at  ya  Regent 
Street,  Chelsea.  Sec  above,  p.  300. 


302 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Jane  Cottar 

Jane  Cotter,  examined  by  Mr.  Gan — [This  witness,  a chamber- 
maid in  the  Savoy  Hotel,  repeated  the  evidence  which  she  had  given 
in  her  cxamination-in-chie£  at  the  former  trial.] 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke — Why  do  you  wear  eye- 
glasses?— Because  my  sight  is  bad. 

Do  J'ou  use  them  when  you  are  about  your  work? — Oh,  dears 
no. 

Why  do  you  wear  them  to-day? — Because  I thought  I might 
have  to  recognize  somebody. 

Then  you  did  not  wear  them  when  you  say  you  saw  the  boy  in 
Mr.  Wilde’s  room?— No. 

And  you  had  to  put  them  on  if  you  wanted  to  recognize  any- 
body to-day? — ^Yes. 

Re-examined  by  Mr.  Gin^I  am  quite  sure  I saw  everything  I 
have  described. 

Alice  Saunders,  examined  by  Mr.  Gil]>-I  am  a chambermaid 
employed  at  the  Savoy  Hotel.  My  attention  was  called  by  the 
previous  witness  to  the  state  of  Mr.  Wilde’s  room.  [Witness 
desaibed  the  condition  of  the  room  as  she  found  it.] 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke— When  were  you  first 
asked  to  give  evidence  in  this  case? — ^Last  Friday. 

Antonio  Migge,  examined  by  Mr.  Gil^— [This  witness,  a 
masseur,  repeated  the  evidence  he  had  given  in  his  examination-in- 
chief at  the  former  trial.] 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke — I have  no  recollecdon 
as  to  whether  the  door  of  Mr.  Wilde’s  bedroom  was  locked  or  not. 
I visited  the  room  at  the  usual  time  for  performing  the  massage. 
I knocked  at  the  door  and  went  in.  Mr.  Wilde  said  he  did  not 
want  me  that  morning. 

[Sir  Edward  Clarke  stated  that  at  the  last  trial  this  witness, 
on  being  asked  “Was  the  door  locked?”  had  replied,  "No,  the  door 
was  not  locked.”] 

Cross-examination  continued — ^Was  the  boy  you  say  you  saw 
there  fair  or  dark?— I cannot  remember. 

303 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Eoille  Bcdker 

Emile  Becker,  eEatnined  by  Mr.  Gill— I am  a waiter  at  the 
Savoy  Hotel.  I remember  Mr.  Wilde  and  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
staying  in  the  hotel  in  March,  1893.  I remember  seeing  young  men 
in  Mr.  Wilde’s  rooms  after  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  had  left  the 
hotel.  I think  I saw  about  five  young  men  in  all.  I took  cham- 
pagne and  whiskies  and  sodas  to  the  bedroom,  and  saw  young  men 
there.  After  Mr.  Wilde  had  taken  the  sitting-room  in  the  front  of 
the  hotel,  I served  a supper  of  cold  fowl  and  champagne  for  Mr. 
Wilde  and  a dark  young  man. 

Cross-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Clarke — suppose  you  read  the 
accounts  of  the  previous  trial?— Oh,  yes. 

You  saw  it  stated  that  Parker  said  he  had  had  chicken  and 
champagne?— I think  I saw  it  on  Monday. 

By  Mr,  Justice  Wills— Had  you  not  seen  it  before?— No. 

Cross-exammatm  continued— It  was  a matter  of  considerable 
interest  to  everybody  at  the  Savoy  Hotel?— Yes,  it  was. 

Did  you  not  read  in  the  papers  that  Charles  Parker  said  at  the 
previous  trial,  “We  had  chicken  and  champagne  for  supper?’’— 
I don’t  know.  I don’t  remember  seeing  it  in  the  paper. 

How  many  rooms  had  you  to  look  after? — Seven  sitting-rooms. 

Plenty  of  suppers  in  such  a busy  place?— Not  many  upstairs. 

Have  you  seen  Charles  Parker? — ^Yes,  he  was  pointed  out  to  me. 

You  did  not  recognize  him?— No. 

When  were  you  asked  to  gjve  evidence  in  this  trial? — ^Last 
Friday,  I was  seen  by  an  inspector  from  Scotland  Yard. 

[Mrs.  Margery  Bancroft,  Mrs.  Lucy  Rumsby,  Frederick 
Kearley,  Thomas  Price,  Charles  Richards,  and  Thomas 
Brockwell,  examined,  all  repeated  the  evidence  they  had  given  at 
the  former  trial. 

The  Solicitor-General  put  in  the  shorthand  notes  of  the 
Queensberry  trial,  and  said  that  he  intended  to  read  those  portions 
of  them  which  referred  to  Wilde’s  relations  with  Wood,  Shelley, 
Parker,  Taylor,  and  others. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke  said  that  he  proposed  to  read  the  examina- 
tion-in-chieL 


Mr.  Justice  Wills  suggested  that  each  side  should  read  such 
portions  of  the  evidence  in  the  first  trial  as  he  pleased. 

304 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

sir  Edvard  Clarke 

Sir  Edward  Clarke  proceeded  to  read  Wilde’s  examination-in- 
chief  in  the  case  of  Regina  v.  Queensberry.  The  Solicitor-General 
and  Mr.  Gill  then  took  it  in  turns  to  read  the  cross-examination.] 


Withdrawal  of  one  Count. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— [Counsel  submitted  that,  in  regard  to  the 
counts  alleging  indecent  practices  at  the  Savoy  Hotel,  there  was  no 
case  to  go  to  the  jury.]  Parker  has  sworn  that  he  left  the  hotel  on 
both  occasions  after  midnight;  and  he  cannot,  therefore,  he 
identified  with  the  boys  whom  the  hotel  servants  declared  they 
saw  there  in  the  mornings. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— The  condition  of  the  rooms  furnishes  a 
certain  amount  of  corroboration  of  the  charges  of  misconduct,  The 
very  fact  that  a man  in  such  a position  in  life  as  the  prisoner  is 
found  with  a boy  in  his  bed  seems  to  me  to  be  so  utterly  unusual 
that  very  little  additional  evidence  would  make  a case  go  to  the  jury. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  has  been  sworn  to  by  the  chambermaid  that 
whatever  happened  there  was  reported  to  the  housekeeper,  and  it  is 
a very  strange  thing  that  she  should  have  done  nothing  about  it, 
I do  not  know  what  sort  of  a person  she  can  have  been  to  take  no 
steps  in  the  matter  at  once. 

The  SoLiciTOR-GENERAi^It  might  have  been  that  the  hotel 
authorities  were  anxious  to  avoid  the  publication  of  a scandal  that 
would  be  prejudicial  to  their  establishment. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — ^In  my  submissiDn  there  is  no  evidence 
whatever  to  support  the  charge  that  Mr.  Wilde  and  a boy  were  in 
bed  together. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — agree.  The  point  in  respect  to  the  Savoy 
Hotel  incidents  is  just  on  the  line.  The  fact  that  Mr.  Wilde  was 
said  to  have  rung  for  the  chambermaid  to  come  into  the  room  makes 
it  difficult  for  me  completely  to  accept  this  story.  The  incident 
deposed  to  by  the  masseur,  Miggc,  is  even  more  slender  from  the 
point  of  view  of  evidence.  It  would  not  be  fair  to  a man  charged 
as  Wilde  is  that  a number  of  nothings  should  be  put  to  make  up  a 
someffiing.  I think,  however,  on  the  whole  the  wiser  and  safer 
course  would  be  to  allow  the  count  in  respect  of  this  matter  to 
go  to  the  jury.  I am  inclined  to  think  that  it  is  a matter,  the 

u 305 


Oscar  WildCi 


sic  Edward  Clarita 

responsibility  a£  deciding  which  rests  with  the  jury.  At  the  same 
time  tlie  question  is  so  completely  on  the  line  that  I should  feel 
justified  in  reserving  it  for  the  Court  of  Crown  Cases  Reserved, 
if  counsel  so  desire. 

The  SoLiaioa-GENERAi/— I would  certainly  ask  that  the  whole 
of  the  charges  in  this  matter  should  be  left  to  the  jury,  who  can 
weigh  for  themselves  the  worth  of  the  evidence. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — [Counsel  went  on  to  submit  that  there 
was  no  corroboration  with  regard  to  Shelley,  and  that  his  evidence 
too  ought  to  be  withdrawn  from  the  jury.]  The  letters  of  Shelley 
point  to  the  inference  that  he  may  have  been  the  victim  of  delusions, 
and,  judging  from  his  conduct  in  the  witness  box,  he  appears  to 
have  a peculiar  sort  of  exaltation  in  and  for  himself. 

The  Solicitor-Generai^I  maintain  that  Shelley’s  evidence  is 
eorroborated  as  far  as  it  possibly  can  be.  What  are  the  relations  of 
these  two  men  of  such  unequal  ages?  I shall  invite  the  jury  to 
say  that  Shelley  is  a young  man  who  was  fascinated  by  the  literary 
culture  of  Wilde,  and  brought  within  Wilde’s  companionship  and 
control  and  domination— that  he  was  “entrapped,”  as  Shelley  put 
it,  and  that  he  was  not  so  much  an  accomplice  as  a victim.  'There 
is,  after  aU,  a certain  amount  of  corroboration — evidence  of  oppor- 
tunity. Of  course,  in  a case  of  this  kind  there  is  an  enormous 
difficulty  in  producing  corroboration  of  eye  witnesses  to  the  actual 
commission  of  the  alleged  acts. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — I must  confess  that  Shelley’s  letters  have 
left  on  my  mind  a notion  of  disturbed  intellect.  It  would  be  a 
terrible  thing  for  society  at  large  if  it  were  to  be  considered 
unnatural  for  a man  to  ask  a younger  man  of  good  character  to 
dine  with  him. 

The  Solicitor-General— I would  remind  your  lordship  of  the 
letter  in  which  Shelley  wrote  "Let  God  judge  of  the  past,”  and 
also  of  the  fact  that  Shelley  is  not  in  the  position  of  an  accomphee. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— With  regard  to  Shelley  I am  very  clearly  of 
the  opinion  that  he  must  be  treated,  on  his  own  evidence,  on  the 
footing  of  an  accomplice,  and  that  his  evidence  should  be  corro- 
borated. It  seems  to  me  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind  here.  Shelley’s 
own  letters  to  Wilde  are  rather  against  the  supposition.  After  a 

306 


Evidence  for  the  Prosecution. 

Sir  fidward  Clarke 

most  careful  consideration  of  the  point,  I adhere  to  the  view,  which 
I had  already  formed,  that  there  is  no  corroboration  of  the  nature 
required  by  law  to  warrant  conviction,  and  therefore  I feel  justified 
in  withdrawing  this  part  of  the  case  from  the  consideration  of  the 
jury. 

(His  lordship’s  ruling,  which  necessarily  involved  the  acquittal 
of  the  prisoner  on  an  important  count  in  the  indictment,  caused 
considerable  excitement  in  Court) 

Sir  Edwahd  Clarkb — [Counsel  referred  to  the  case  of  Vi^ood.] 
In  my  submission  there  is  no  corroboration  of  any  sort  or  kind  of 
his  evidence  that  he  has  been  to  Tite  Street, 

The  SoirciTOE-GENEaAL— My  lord,  I must  protest  against  any 
decision  being  given  on  these  questions  other  than  by  a verdict  of 
the  jury.  In  my  opinion  the  case  of  the  man  Wood  cannot  be 
withheld  from  the  jury.  I submit  that  there  is  every  element  of 
strong  corroboration  of  Wood’s  story,  having  regard  especially  to 
the  strange  and  suspicious  circumstances  under  which  Wilde  and 
Wood  became  acquainted.  There  is  also  corroboration  on  the  pay- 
ment by  Wilde  of  the  money  which  enabled  Wood  to  go  to 
America.  [The  Solioitor-Generai.  quoted  authorities  to  show  that, 
although  Mr.  Justice  Wills  had  rightly  stated  the  rule  of  practice, 
it  was  not  a rule  of  law,  and  that  it  was  the  duty  of  a judge  to  tell 
the  jury  that  they  might,  if  they  pleased,  act  on  the  unconfirmed 
testimony  of  an  accomplice.] 

Sir  Edwasd  Claeke— It  is  cruel  to  suggest  that  the  generous 
action  of  a man  in  giving  a lad  the  means  of  getting  away  from 
bad  companions,  to  begin  a new  life  in  another  country,  is  a corro- 
boration of  his  own  misconduct.  [Counsel  referred  to  authorities  in 
answer  to  those  cited  by  the  Soucitoe-Gbnebal  and  he  quoted  from 
the  summing  up  of  Charles,  J,,  in  the  previous  trial : ] “By,  I will 
not  say,  the  law  of  England,  but  by  the  wholesome  practice  of  our 
Courts  for  nearly  two  hundred  years,  no  defendant  can  be  convicted 
upon  the  uncorroborated  evidence  and  testimony  of  an  accomplice 
in  his  crime.  If  it  were  otherwise,  to  what  terrible  dangers  might 
not  innocent  people  be  exposed  by  designing  and  spitrful  adver- 
saries?” I rely,  therefore,  upon  this  rule  of  practice  as  a wholesome 
rule  of  two  hundred  years’  standing,  even  if  it  is  not  actually  a rule 
of  law.  (Applause.) 


307 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Tti«  8ol)cltl>^aelleral 

Mr.  Justice  Wilis — I am  of  the  opinion  that  the  counts  affect- 
ing Wood  ought  to  go  to  the  jury.  I think  that  this  case  is  slightly 
different  from  that  of  Shelley.  I have  no  doubt  as  to  the  wholesome 
rule  on  which  1 acted  in  the  other  case,  and  when  it  comes  to  my 
turn  to  sum  up,  1 shall  explain  why  I did  not  withdraw  Wood’s 
ease  from  the  jury,  and  in  what  direction  I find  corroboration.  It 
seems  to  me,  after  hearing  the  cross-examination  of  Wilde  in  the 
Queensberry  case,  that  the  relations  of  the  two  men  form  a question 
which  the  jury  ought  to  consider. 


Third  Trial-  Fifth  Day— Friday,  24th  May,  1895. 

The  Solicitor-General— [After  referring  to  the  argument  on 
the  previous  day  with  regard  to  the  count  in  the  indictment  concern- 
ing Shelley,  counsel  quoted  the  recent  case  of  Regina  v.  Ueunier 
[1894]  2 Q.B.  415. J In  this  case  the  learned  judge  said  that  no 
doubt  it  was  the  practice  to  warn  a jury  that  they  should  not  convict 
unless  they  thought  the  evidence  of  an  accomplice  was  corroborated, 
but  that  he  (the  judge)  knew  of  no  power  to  withdraw  the  case 
from  the  jury  for  want  of  corroborative  evidence.  That  was  the 
decision  of  Mr.  Justice  Cave  as  recently  as  June,  1894.  Mr.  Justice 
Collins  concurred.  It  was  an  extradition  case.  I do  not  presume 
to  re-argue  the  point  upon  wluch  his  lordship  has  given  his 
decision,  but  I think  it  my  duty  to  call  the  attention  of  your  lord- 
ship to  this  recent  judgment. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — ^I  prefer  to  adhere  to  the  course  which  I 
have  taken  as  the  result  of  very  serious  deliberation,  but  I am  will- 
ing to  reserve  the  question  for  the  consideration  of  the  Court  of 
Crown  Cases  Reserved. 

The  Solicitor-General— As  your  lordship  pleases. 


Opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— May  it  please  you,  my  lord,  gentlemen  of 
the  jury— It  now  becomes  my  duty  to  make  some  observations  to 
you  on  what  remains  of  the  case  which  has  been  deliberately 
launched  against  Mr.  Wilde.  I shall  not  detain  you  for  long,  and 
I do  not  think  that  it  will  be  necessary  for  me  to  detain  you  for 
long  when  I come  to  address  you  hereafter  on  the  subject  of  the 
tvidence  on  which  you  are  cdled  to  rely,  as  the  amended  ease 
308 


opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

sir  Gdwnl  Clitka 

against  Mr.  Wilde  is  very  limited.  Nor  shall  I discuss  in  detail 
now  the  evidence  which  has  been  given  in  this  case,  because  that 
evidence  is  not  complete. 

I shall  call  Mr.  Wilde  into  the  witness  box  again  to  state  on  his 
oath  for  the  third  time  in  this  Court  that  there  is  no  truth  whatever 
in  the  accusations  which  are  made  against  him,  and  to  face  for  the 
third  time  in  this  Court,  and  now  with  a new  assailant,  that  cross- 
examination  which  may  be  administered  to  him  in  regard  to  these 
accusations.  When  he  has  given  that  evidence,  and  when  he  has 
been  cross-examined,  the  case  will  be  complete,  and  it  will  be  my 
duty  to  address  you  upon  the  character  of  the  evidence  with  which 
you  are  asked  to  deal. 

Some  time  ago,  when  this  case  was  first  brought  against  the 
aaused,  the  indictment  contained  twenty-five  counts,  some  of  which 
were  counts  for  conspiracy,  and  in  the  indictment  there  was  one 
point  reserved  which  could  be  argued  if  necessary.  The  evidence 
for  the  Crown  was  heard  and  then  suddenly  all  the  counts  for  con- 
spiracy were  withdrawn.  On  the  other  counts  at  that  trial  the 
jury  were  discharged  because  they  could  not  agree  upon  a verdict. 
Hence  in  the  present  trial  I cannot  imagine  any  reason  of  logic  or 
fairness  which  an  be  suggested  for  the  course  which  was  adopted 
of  trying  the  other  defendant  first.  In  Taylor’s  case  the  jury  were 
unable  to  agree  as  to  the  issue  referiing  to  Mr.  Wilde,  and  they 
were  discharged  without  giving  a verdict  as  to  that  issue.  Prac- 
tically this  is  the  third  time  that  this  issue  has  been  placed  before 
a jury.  There  can  be  no  cause  of  complaint  against  me  if  I feel  a 
little  soreness  at  the  tratment  Mr.  Wilde  has  received. 

There  is  one  observation  that  I cannot  leave  unmade  at  this 
stage,  gentlemen,  and  that  is  that,  in  evidence  given  by  Mr.  Wilde 
at  the  hearing  of  the  charge  of  libel  against  the  Marquess  of 
Queensberry,  there  is  only  one  statement  which  was  contradicted 
by  an  independent  witness— that  Mr.  Wilde  had  never  been  to 
Charles  Parker's  lodgings  in  Park  Walk.  A woman  has  been  called 
on  the  part  of  the  prosecution  who  has  stated  that  she  had  seen  a 
gentleman  who,  she  said,  was  Mr.  Wilde,  and  she  is  the  only 
independent  witness  to  contradict  any  statement  made  by  Mr. 
Wilde.  I ask  you  to  remember  that  in  relation  to  the  question  with 
which  you  have  to  deal.  What  observations  I have  to  make  as  to  the 
character  of  the  witnesses,  on  whose  evidence  you  are  asked  to 
rely,  I will  make  hereafter.  It  is  not  enough  to  discredit  the 
evidence  of  the  accused.  The  Crown  must  persuade  you  to  believe 
the  evidence  of  their  witnesses,  if  their  case  is  to  be  established. 
The  action  of  Mr.  Wilde  has  not  been  in  the  least  inconsistent 

309 


Oscar  Wilde. 


sir  Edward  Clarke 

with  that  o£  a man  who,  conscious  o£  innocence,  is  prepared  to  face 
the  charges  of  blackmailers.  1 ask  you  to  believe  that  a guilty  man 
could  not  undergo  the  terrible  ordeal  of  examination  and  cross- 
examination  in  the  witness  box  on  three  different  occasions. 

[Counsel  proceeded  to  trace  the  history  of  the  case  from  the 
action  of  Lord  Queensberry  in  leaving  a libellous  card  at  the 
defendant's  club.  He  dwelt  on  the  continued  friendship  of  the 
defendant  with  Lady  Queensberry  and  her  sons,  and  continued:] 
Mr.  Wilde  has  heroically  fought  against  the  accusations  made 
against  him,  accusadons  that  have  broken  down  piece  by  piece. 

I had  the  honour  to  hold  the  office  of  SoKcitor-Gencral,  which 
Sir  Frank  Lockwood  now  holds,  for  a longer  period  than  any  man 
has  held  it  during  the  last  hundred  years,  and  having  been  Solicitor- 
General  for  sk  years"  it  is  not  likdy  that  I,  at  any  place  or  time, 
will  speak  lightly  of  the  responsibilides  of  that  office.  But  I always 
look  upon  the  responsibility  of  a Crown  counsel,  and  especially 
upon  tie  responsibility  of  a law  officer  of  the  Crown,  as  a public 
rather  than  a private  interest  or  responsibility.  He  is  a minister 
of  justice,  with  a responsibility  more  like  the  responsibility  of  a 
judge  than  like  that  of  a counsel  retained  for  a particular  com- 
batant in  the  forensic  fray.  I learned  my  work  in  titis  Court  from 
the  best  example  I ever  saw  of  a law  officer  conducting  criminal 
cases,  that  great  advocate  and  great  gendeman,  Sir  John  Holker,* 
who  twenty  years  ago  was  conducting  great  causes  in  this  Court 
with  a determined  fairness  which  I admired;  and  I declared  at  the 
time  that  I trusted  I might  be  able  some  day  to  emulate  it.  While, 
therefore,  I say  these  things  without  the  least  unfriendliness  of 
feeling  towards  the  Solicitor-General,  I say  them  in  the  hope  that 
I may  do  something  to  induce  my  learned  friend  to  remember — 
what  I fear  for  a moment  yesterday  he  forgot— that  he  is  not  here 
to  try  to  get  a verdict  of  guilty  by  any  means  he  may  have,  but 
that  he  is  here  to  lay  before  the  jury  for  their  judgment  the  facts  on 
which  they  will  be  asked  to  come  to  a very  serious  consideration.  I 
have  now  to  answer  but  the  remnant  of  a charge.  But  as  the  case 
has  been  whittled  down,  so  the  efforts  of  the  prosecution  have  been 
redoubled;  and  instead  of  facing  Mr.  Gill— of  the  tone  of  whose 
conduct  of  the  last  case  I had  never  for  a moment  to  complain — 
down  comes  a law  officer  of  the  Crown  armed  with  the  strange  and 
invidious  privilege  (which  I mysdf  when  Solicitor-General  never 
once  exercised,  and  will  not  exercise  if  ever  I fill  that  distinguished 


^ iB86-iBg2. 

^ Sir  )ohn  Holker,  Solidtor-Genera!,  1872;  afteiwardi  2 Lord  o£  Appeal}  died 


opening  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

sir  Edrviird  Clarke 

position  again)  o£  over-riding  the  usual  practice  of  the  Court. 
Whether  the  defendant  calls  witnesses  or  not,  the  Solicitor-General 
enjoys  the  right— though  why  he  should  enjoy  it  I cannot  imagine 
— of  the  last  word  with  the  jury.  But  for  this  I might  have  relied 
upon  the  reading  of  the  defendant's  evidence  at  the  last  trial. 
Reckoning  with  this,  the  defendant,  broken  as  he  is  now,  as  anyone 
who  saw  him  at  the  first  trial  must  see  he  is,  by  being  kept  in  prison 
without  bail — contrary  to  practice,  and  as  I believe  contrary  to  law — 
will  submit  himself  again  to  the  indignity  and  pain  of  going  into 
the  witness  box.  Unfit  as  he  is  after  the  ordeal  he  has  gone 
through,  he  will  repeat  on  oath  his  denial  of  the  charges  which 
have  been  made  against  him. 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

OscAa  Wilde,  examined  by  Sir  Edwasd  Clahkb— [At  his 
counsel’s  request,  witness  was  allowed  to  be  seated  in  the  box. 
Witness  then  repeated  the  evidence  which  he  had  given  in  his 
examiiiitioa-iiKiuel  at  the  former  trial.] 

Examination  continued— Vfhy  did  you  take  the  chambers  at  lo 
St.  James’s  Place? — ^Most  literary  men  like  to  work  out  of  their 
own  house.  It  is  quieter  and  better.  I was  writing  An  Ideal 
Husband  at  the  time. 

You  made  certain  remarks  upon  the  evidence  of  Charles  Parkei 
when  you  were  in  the  box  before?— Yes. 

Have  you  any  qualifications  to  make  of  those  remarks? — No. 

You  have  been  living  with  your  wife  since  you  were  married  in 
1884,  at  16  Tite  Street? — Ya. 

Is  there  any  truth  whatever  in  the  accusations  made  against  you 
in  this  indictment? — None  whatever.  (Witness  gave  this  answer 
with  marked  emphasis.) 

Cross-examined  by  the  Souoitor-General— (Witness  stood  up,) 
Don't  rise,  please,  unless  you  wish? — I can  hear  better.  (Witness 
resumed  his  seat  a few  minutes  later.) 

When  did  your  acquaintance  with  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  begin? 
— In  1892. 

And  when  did  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry  first  object?— In 
March,  1893. 

Are  you  sure?— I am  very  bad  about  dates.  It  must  have  been 
last  year,  1894. 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Wllte 

Douglas  is  now? — ^He  is  abroad. 

Where?— In  Paris,  at  the  Hotel  des  Deux  Mondes. 

How  long  has  he  been  there? — About  three  weeks. 

Was  he  in  London  at  the  time  oC  the  trial  of  the  Marquess 
of  Queensberry?— Yes.  for  about  three  weeks.  He  went  away  to 
France  at  my  wish  before  the  first  trial  on  these  counts  came  on. 

Of  course  you  have  been  in  communication  with  him?— 
Certainly.  These  charges  are  founded  on  sand.  Our  friendship  is 
founded  on  a rock.  There  has  been  no  need  to  cancel  the  acquaint- 
ance. 

What  did  you  do  when  you  learned  that  the  Marquess  of 
Queensberry  objected  to  your  friendship  with  his  son?— I said  I 
was  perfecdy  ready  to  cease  the  acquaintance,  if  it  would  make 
peace  between  him  and  his  father;  but  he  preferred  to  do  otherwise. 

And  the  intervention  of  his  father  had  no  effect? — No. 

[The  Soliciior-Generai.  proceeded  to  read  the  now  notorious 
“prose-poem”  letter  beginning  “My  own  Boy,  Your  sonnet  is  quite 
lovely,”  which  had  been  written  by  the  prisoner  from  Torquay  to 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas  early  in  1893  and  had  originally  been  pro- 
duced by  Wilde  himself  at  the  Queensberry  trial.'  Counsel  also 
referred  to  the  other  letter  written  shortly  afterwards  from  the 
Savoy  Hotel.'] 

Cross-examination  continued — Arc  these  a sample  of  the  style  in 
which  you  addressed  Lord  Alfred  Douglas? — Nol  I do  not  think 
I should  say  a sample.  No;  the  letter  written  from  Torquay  was 
intended  to  be  a kind  of  prose  poem  in  answer  to  a poem  Lord 
Alfred  had  written  to  me  in  verse.  It  was  written  under  circum- 
stances of  great  feeling. 

Why  did  you  choose  the  words,  “My  own  Boy,"  as  a mode  of 
address?— I adopted  them  because  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  is  so  much 
younger  than  myself.  The  letter  was  a fantastic,  extravagant  way 
of  writing  to  a young  man.  As  I said  at  the  first  trial,  it  does  not 
seem  to  me  to  be  a question  of  whether  a thing  is  right  or  proper, 
but  of  literary  expression.  It  was  like  a little  sonnet  of  Shakespeare. 

I did  not  use  the  word  proper  or  right.  Was  it  decent?— Oh, 
decent?  Of  course;  there  is  nothing  indecent  in  it. 

Do  you  think  that  was  a decent  way  for  a man  of  your  age  to 
address  a man  of  his?— It  was  a beautiful  way  for  an  artist  to 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Oscir  Wild* 

address  a young  man  of  culture  and  charm,  Decency  does  not 
enter  into  it. 

Doesn’t  it?  Do  you  understand  the  meaning  of  the  word,  dr? 
-Ye*. 

“It  is  a marvel  that  those  ted  rose-leaf  lips  of  yours  should  have 
been  made  no  less  for  music  of  song  than  for  madness  of  kisses.” 
And  do  you  consider  that  decent? — ^It  was  an  attempt  to  write  a prose 
poem  in  beautiful  phraseology. 

Did  you  consider  it  decent  phraseology?— Oh,  yes,  yes. 

Then  do  you  consider  that  a decent  mode  of  addressing  a young 
man? — I can  only  give  you  the  same  answer,  that  it  is  a literary 
mode  of  writing  what  is  intended  to  be  a prose  poem. 

“Your  slim  gUt  soul  walks  between  passion  and  poetry  . . . 
Hyacinthus,  whom  Apollo  loved  so  madly,  was  you  in  Greek 
days.”  You  were  speaking  of  love  between  men? — ^What  I meant 
by  the  phrase  was  that  he  was  a poet,  and  Hyacinthus  was  a poet 

“Always,  with  undying  love”? — It  was  not  a sensual  love. 

Is  that  again  poedc  imagery  or  an  expression  of  your  feelings? — 
That  is  an  expression  of  my  feelings.  (The  witness  smiled  and 
bowed  to  counsel.) 

[The  Solicitor-General  next  read  the  letter  written  from  the 
Savoy  Hotel."  When  he  came  to  the  passage,  “My  bill  here  is 
,{49,”  counsel  broke  off.] 

Cross-examination  continued— That,  I suppose,  is  true?  That 
is  not  poetic?— Oh,  no,  not  That  wa*  prose  of  the  most  sordid 
kind. 

[The  Solicitor-General  read  the  remainder  of  the  letter.] 

"...  I have  also  got  a new  sitting-room  over  the  Thames. 

Why  are  you  not  here,  my  dear,  my  wonderful  boy? 

Your  own  Oscar." 

Cross-examination  continued— He  came  and  stayed  with  you  »t 
the  Savoy?— Yes,  in  the  month  of  February. 

Did  he  come  to  you  in  response  to  that  appeal? — ^He  came  shortly 
afterwards  on  his  way  to  Germany. 

How  often  did  he  stay  with  you  at  the  Savoy  Hotel?— Three 
times. 

You  were  alone,  you  two? — Oh,  ye*. 


• See  sbove,  p.  133. 


313 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oscar  Wliac 

The  approach  to  your  room  was  through  his?— Yes. 

Were  you  aware  o£  his  father  objecting  to  your  intimacy?— Oh, 
no, 

What  was  the  charge  which  Lord  Queensberry  made  against 
you?— (After  some  hesitation.)  Posing  as  a sodomite. 

Between  Lord  Queensberry’s  committal  and  his  trial,  did  you 
and  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  go  abroad?— Yes. 

Having  obtained  the  committal  of  Lord  Queensberry,  you  and 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas  left  the  country  together? — Yes.  We  were 
abroad  about  a week,  and  I returned  to  appear  as  prosecutor. 

Before  the  trial  did  you  see  Lord  Queensberry’s  plea  of  jusd- 
fication?— Yea. 

That  plea  alleged  all  the  misconduct  of  which  evidence  has 
since  been  given;  besides  making  charges  which  have  not  been 
heard  because  they  refer  to  occurrences  in  Paris? — ^Yes. 

Did  you  abandon  the  prosecudon? — It  was  abandoned  by  the 
advice  of  my  counsel. 

With  your  consent?— Yes,  I admit  it  was  with  my  consent,  but 
none  of  those  matters  had  been  entered  into.  It  was  entirely  about 
literature,  and  it  was  represented  to  me  tliat  I could  not  get  a 
verdict  btxause  of  those  two  letters  you  have  read. 

Was  Taylor  present?— I did  not  see  him  during  the  trial,  but  he 
sent  me  a letter. 

Were  you  not  cross-aamined  as  to  your  knowledge  of  Taylor 
and  his  character?— Yes. 

And  as  to  the  establishment  he  maintained  at  13  Litde  College 
Street?— Yes. 

How  long  had  you  known  Taylor?— I met  him  first  in 
September,  1892. 

Did  you  visit  him? — ^Yes,  I paid  visits  to  his  rooms,  but  I have 
not  been  there  more  than  five  or  six  times  in  my  life. 

Was  there  any  but  male  society  there?— Oh,  no;  entirely  male. 

What  were  their  names?— I met  Mavor  and  Schwabe  there.  I 
only  went  there  to  tea  parties  lasting  half  an  hour  or  so,  and  I 
cannot  after  a lapse  of  diree  years  remember  whom  I met.  You 
ask  me  to  remember  whom  I met  at  a tea  patty  three  years  ago. 
It  is  childish.  How  can  I? 

Did  you  meet  Charles  Mason  there?— No,  I met  him  at  a 
dinner. 

The  boys  Wood,  Mavor,  and  Parker,  what  was  their  occupa- 
tion?—One  doesn|t  ask  people  such  questions  at  a tea  party. 

Did  Taylor  strike  you  as  being  a pleasant  companion?— Yes,  I 
thought  him  very  bright. 


314 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Oicar  Wilde 

Did  you  know  what  his  occupation  was?~No;  I understood  that 
he  had  none. 

Had  any  of  these  young  men  any  occupation?— Oh,  they  were 
young  men — singers — I did  not  ask. 

Did  you  see  anything  remarkable  in  the  furnishing  of  Taylor’s 
rooms?— No,  nothing. 

The  windows  were  curtained? — Yes,  but  not  obscured. 

Did  you  know  that  Taylor’s  male  friends  stayed  with  him  and 
shared  his  bed? — No,  I know  it  now. 

Does  that  alter  your  opinion  of  Taylor?— No,  I don’t  think  so. 
I don’t  think  it  is  necessary  to  conclude  that  there  was  anything 
criminal.  It  was  unusual.  I don’t  believe  anything  crimind  took 
place  between  Taylor  and  these  boys;  and  if  they  were  poor  and  he 
shared  his  bed  with  them  it  may  have  been  charity. 

Did  it  shock  you  that  he  should  have  done  it?— No,  I saw  no 
necessity  for  being  shocked. 

I must  press  you.  Do  you  approve  of  his  conduct?— I don’t 
think  I am  called  upon  to  express  approval  or  disapproval  of  any 
person’s  conduct. 

Would  the  knowledge  that  they  habitually  shared  his  bed  alter 
your  opinion  of  Taylor?— No. 


[Sir  EnwAan  Clabke  objected  to  the  cross-examination  of  the 
witness  as  m his  opinion  of  other  people.  Mr.  Justice  Wius 
upheld  the  objection,  but  pointed  out  that  it  came  too  late.] 


Did  you  give  presents  to  the  young  men  you  met  at  Taylor’s?- 
[Witness  objected  to  the  general  character  or  this  question.] 

Do  you  remember  giving  Mavor  a dgarette  case? — ^Yes.  It  cost 


£4- 

Did  you  give  one  to  Charles  Parker  also?— Yes,  but  I am  afraid 
it  only  cost  ^i. 

Silver?— Well,  yes.  I have  a great  fancy  for  giving  dgarette 
cases. 

To  young  men?— Yes. 

How  many  have  you  given? — ^I  might  have  given  seven  or  eight 
in  iSgz  and  1893. 


Mr.  Justice  Wius— Surely  a dgarette  case  conveys  no  impression 
to  anyone’s  mind  unless  he  knows  what  you  mean.  Sir  Frank? 

Cross-examination  continued — ^Was  the  conversation  of  these 
young  men  literary? — ^No;  but  die  fact  that  I had  written  a play 
3*5 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Oiur  WIMo 

which  was  a success  seemed  to  them  very  wonderful,  and  I was 
gratified  at  their  admiration. 

The  admiration  of  these  boys? — Yes.  I am  fond  of  praise.  1 
like  to  be  made  much  of. 

By  these  boys? — ^Yes. 

Whose  very  names  you  don’t  remember? — ^Yes.  I admit  that 
I am  enormously  fond  of  praise  and  admiration,  and  that  I like  to 
be  made  much  of  by  my  inferiors— inferiors  socially.  It  pleases 
me  very  much. 

What  pleasure  could  you  find  in  the  society  of  boys  much 
beneath  you  in  social  position? — I make  no  social  distinctions. 

What  did  you  do  with  them? — read  to  them.  I read  one  of 
my  plays  to  them. 

Did  it  not  strike  you  that  in  your  position  you  could  exercise 
a considerable  influence  over  these  lads  for  good  or  ill?— No,  I am 
bound  to  say  I don’t  think  it  did.  The  only  influence  I could 
exercise  on  anybody  would  be  a literary  influence.  Of  course  in 
the  case  of  these  young  men  that  would  be  out  of  the  question. 
Otherwise  I don’t  see  what  capacity  1 have  for  influencing  people. 

I did  not  mean  literary  influenee?- 1 like  to  be  liked.  1 liked 
their  society  simply  because  I like  to  be  lionized. 

You,  a successful  literary  man,  wished  to  obtain  praise  from 
these  boys?— Praise  from  anyone  is  very  delightful.  Praise  from 
literary  people  is  usually  tabled  with  criticism, 

You  had  not  known  Taylor  many  months  when  you  invited  him 
to  dine  on  the  ocasion  of  his  birthday,  and  gave  him  carte  blanche 
to  bring  his  friends? — That  is  so. 

Did  you  limit  the  number?— Oh  dear,  no. 

As  many  as  he  lilted?- Well,  I did  not  ask  him  to  bring  a crowd. 

Then  it  was  a pure  coincidence  that  the  table  was  laid  for  four, 
and  that  he  brought  the  two  Parkers? — ^No.  I think  he  had  ordered 
the  dinner  himself.  I told  him  to  go  to  Kettner’s  because  I have 
been  in  the  habit  for  years  of  dining  there. 

Did  you  know  at  the  time  that  the  Parkers  were  a valet  and  a 
groom  respectively?— No,  and  had  I known  it  I should  not  have 
cared. 

You  have  no  sense  at  all  of  social  differences? — No. 

You  preferred  Charles?— I make  no  preferences. 

You  hke  bright  boys? — I hke  bright  boys.  Charles  Parker  was 
bright.  I liked  him. 

Did  you  not  pause  to  conrider  whether  it  would  be  of  the 
slightest  service  to  lads  m their  position  to  be  entertained  in  such 
style  by  a man  b your  position?— No.  They  enjoyed  it  as  school- 

316 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Oku  Vllde 

boys  would  enjoy  a treat.  It  was  something  they  did  not  get  every 
day.  I don’t  suppose  they  would  have  cared  to  be  entertained  to  a 
chop  and  a pint  o£  ale— they  were  used  to  that. 

You  looked  on  them  as  schoolboys?— They  were  amused  by  the 
little  luxuries  of  Kettner’s — the  pink  lamp-shades  and  so  forth. 

Did  you  give  them  wine?— Yes.  I certainly  should  not  stint  a 
guest. 

You  would  let  them  drink  as  much  as  they  liked? — should  not 
limit  their  consumption;  but  I should  consider  it  extremely  vulgar 
for  anyone  to  take  too  much  wine  at  table.  , 

After  the  dinner  what  did  you  do? — I bade  the  Parkers  good-bye 
and  they  went  away  with  Taylor. 

Did  you  not  take  Charles  Parker  to  the  Savoy  Hotel?— No, 
certainly  not. 

Was  Taylor  charming?— Charming  is  not  the  word  I would 
apply  to  him.  I found  him  bri^t  and  pleasant. 

Intellectual?— Not  intellectual.  Clever,  decidedly. 

Artistic?— Yes. 

Very  good  taste  with  his  scents  and ? — I think  it  good  taste 

to  use  perfumes.  1 thought  his  rooms  were  done  up  with  consider- 
able taste.  I think  he  had  a very  pleasant  taste.  His  rooms  were 
cheerful. 

Not  a very  cheerful  street.  Little  College  Street?— Few  streets 
are  cheerful.  I have  known  artists  who  lived  quite  close  there. 

Did  you  like  the  situation? — ^I  thought  it  a particularly  nice  one 
— close  to  Westminster  Abbey, 

Is  it  true  that  when  you  met  Parker  in  Trafalgar  Square  yon 
used  the  words,  "You  are  looking  as  pretty  as  ever’’?— No,  I don’t 
think  I used  the  words. 

'Would  you  consider  such  words  right  to  use  to  a youth? — Oh, 
BO.  It  would  be  frivolous. 

You  don’t  object  to  being  frivolous?— Oh,  I 

[Sir  Edwabd  Clarkb  objected  to  the  aoss-examination  tending 
towards  subjects  which  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  charges,  but 
Mr.  Justice  Wills  overruled  this  objection.] 

Cross-examination  continued — ^Did  you  ever  sup  alone  with  any 
young  man  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  about  that  time?— I could  not 
remember.  You  are  asking  me  of  three  years  ago.  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  may  have  been  with  me. 

But  he  would  be  perfectly  well  known  to  the  waiters  at  the 
Savoy?— Oh,  yes. 

Sir 


Oscar  Wilde. 

Omm  WH4« 

Wherever  you  arc  well  known,  he  would  be?— Oh,  I don’t  know 
that. 

You  have  stayed  together  at  the  Savoy,  at  the  Albemarle,  at  the 
Avondale,  at  St.  James’s  Place,  at  the  Metropole  at  Brighton,  at 
Cromer,  at  Goring,  at  the  Albion  at  Worthing,  and  at  Torquay?— 
Yes.  He  has  not  stayed  with  me  at  St.  James’s  Place,  but  I have 
lent  him  my  rooms  there. 

Did  Charles  Parker  ever  visit  you? — He  might  have  visited  me 
seven  or  eight  times  at  St.  James's  Place,  and  on  one  occasion  he 
dined  with  me  at  Kettner’s,  and  we  afterwards  went  to  the 
Pavilion. 

When  did  you  last  see  him? — ^In  December  last,  in  the  street. 
[Counsel  read  the  following  letter.] 

7 Camera  Square. 

Dear  Oscar, 

Am  I tn  have  the  pleasure  of  dining  with  you  this  evening? 
If  so,  kindly  reply  by  messenger  or  wire  to  the  above  address. 

I trust  you  can,  and  we  can  spend  a pleasant  evening.  With 
kind  regards  and  apologies, 

Yours  faithfully, 

Cius.  Pmm. 

Cross-examination  continued— Did  you  receive  this  letter  from 
him?— Yes,  I remember  receiving  that  letter. 

Did  you  ever  go  to  see  Parker  at  his  Chelsea  lodgings?— No. 
I am  certain  I didn't. 

How  much  money  have  you  given  Charles  Parker  in  cash?— 
Four  or  five  pounds. 

Why? — oh,  I g^ve  young  men  money  with  pleasure. 

Do  you  remember  a young  man  named  Scarfe? — ^Ycs.  Taylor 
brought  him  to  see  me.  Scarfe  represented  himself  as  a young  man 
who  had  made  money  in  Austrdia. 

Why  was  he  brought  to  you? — ^Because  many  people  at  that  time 
had  great  pleasure  and  interest  in  seeing  me. 

Did  he  call  you  Oscar?— Yes. 

At  once?— I had  to  ask  him  to.  I have  a passion  for  being 
called  by  my  Chrisrian  name.  It  pleases  me. 

Did  you  give  him  a cigarette  case? — ^Yes. 

Has  he  dined  alone  with  you?— Yes. 

Do  you  remember  Alphonse  Conway?— Yes.  I met  him  on  the 
beach  at  Worthing  last  year  in  August.  He  had  an  ambition  to  go 
to  sea. 


318 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Oicar  Wilde 

Of  whaL  station  in  life  is  he? — Of  no  particular  station. 

Did  he  not  sell  papers  on  the  pier? — Oh,  never  while  I was  there. 

What  was  his  mother?— She  was  a widow,  and  let  lodgings. 

Did  you  buy  him  a suit?— Yes,  of  blue  serge. 

And  a stick? — ^Yes. 

And  took  him  to  Brighton? — ^Yes,  we  had  twenty-four  hours’ 
trip  to  Brighton.  That  was  a month  afterwards. 

What  rooms  had  you  at  Brighton?— Two  bedrooms  and  a 
sitting-room.  We  slept  in  adjoining  rooms. 

When  did  you  see  Conway  last? — Outside  the  Court  two  days 
ago. 

[Counsel  went  on  to  cross-examine  the  wimess  on  the  “moral 
effects”  of  taking  a lad  in  Conway’s  position  for  an  outing.  At  this 
point  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry  entered  the  Court  and,  being 
unable  to  get  a seat,  remained  standing  at  the  back,  sucking  the 
brim  of  his  hat  and  staring  at  the  witness.  Meanwhile  the  witness 
was  seen  to  take  frequent  sips  of  water  from  a glass  by  his  side.] 

Cross-examination  continued~Do  you  know  Harrington?- Yes. 
I met  him  in  the  company  of  Schwabc  in  the  Cafi  Royal. 

[Counsel  here  produced  two  scarf  pins,  but  the  witness  denied 
that  he  had  given  them  to  anyone  or  had  ever  seen  them  before.] 

Cross-examination  continued — ^Did  you  meet  Wood  by  appoint- 
ment at  the  Cafi  Royal?— Yes.  I had  been  asked  to  assist  him, 
and  took  him  to  supper  at  the  Florence.  I had  already  had  supper 
myself. 

Then  why  not  give  him  five  shillings  to  go  and  get  his  supper?— 
Ah,  that  would  be  treating  him  like  a beggar.  He  was  sent  to  me 
by  Lord  Alfred  Douglas. 

Did  you  know  he  came  from  13  Little  College  Street?— No,  I 
did  not  know  that.  He  told  me  he  was  a clerk  out  of  employment, 
and  was  anxious  to  find  employment.  I could  not  do  that,  but  I 
gave  him  money. 

Why  should  he  be  sent  to  you  for  money? — ^The  money  was  not 
really  from  me,  but  was  from  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  who  was  at 
Salisbury. 

There  are  such  things  as  postal  orders,  I believe?— Yes. 

Did  you  tell  him  your  people  were  away  from  home  at  the  time? 
-Yes. 

Why?— Oh,  it  occurred  in  the  course  of  conversation. 

319 


Oscar  Wilde, 


Oitur  Wlldi 

When  did  you  see  Wood  nejitP—About  two  days  afterwards, 
by  appointment  at  die  OiW  Royal. 

Why  should  you  meet  him  again? — had  been  asked  to  interest 
myself  in  him, 

You  have  heard  since  that  Wood  was  staying  at  Taylor’s?— No. 
Who  told  you  first  that  Wood  was  anxious  to  leave  the  country? 
— Alfred  Taylor.  About  this  time  I learned  through  an  anonymous 
letter  that  my  letters  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  had  fallen  into  Wood’s 
hands,  that  I was  to  be  blackmailed  about  them.  I went  to  see  Sit 
George  Lewis,  the  solicitor,  about  the  matter.  Taylor  then  came  to 
me  and  said  that  Wood  was  very  much  distressed  and  concerned. 
A meeting  was  subsequently  arranged  at  Little  College  Street.  The 
letters  were  given  up  to  me  by  Wood  as  soon  as  he  entered  the 
loom. 

Where  are  they? — Oh,  I tore  them  up.  They  were  of  no 
importance. 

But  you  gave  Wood  money  for  them?— I then  gave  Wood  ,£15, 
but  it  was  not  as  the  price  of  the  letters.  I had  gone  prepared  to 
bargain  for  them  it  they  were  worth  buying  back. 

To  bargain  for  whatf~For  those  letters. 

And  you  took  money  with  you  for  the  purpose?— Yes. 

Do  you  mean  on  your  oath  to  say  that  the  pyment  had  nothing 
to  db  with  the  delivery  of  the  letters?— None  whatever. 

And  you  got  the  letters? — Yes. 

And  gave  him  luncheon  and  an  additional  sum  of  on  the 
following  day?— Yes. 

And  he  went  to  America?— Yes. 

From  that  time  did  you  hear  from'  him  or  of  him  till  you  saw 
his  name  in  the  plea  of  justification?— No. 

Do  you  know  a boy  named  Walter  Grainger?— He  was  a servant 
in  Lord  Alfred  Douglas’s  lodgings  at  Oxford.  He  asked  me  if 
I would  get  him  a place  in  London. 

Did  you  find  him  a place?— Yes. 

Where?— In  my  own  house  at  Goring. 

When  did  he  come?— I should  think  it  was  in  July,  1893.  He 
remained  in  my  service  till  I left  Goring  in  October. 

You  have  seen  him  here,  I dare  say? — ^Yes. 

When  you  stayed  at  the  Savoy,  had  you  young  men  there  to  see 
you?— The  great  majority  of  my  friends  were  young. 

Were  you  ill  at  the  Savoy?— Yes. 

You  were  attended  by  a masseur?— Yes. 

Did  the  masseur  come  to  you  when  you  were  occupying  rooms 
343  and  346?— Yes. 


Evidence  for  the  Defence. 

Oku  Wilde 

In  reference  to  the  Savoy  Hotel  evidence,  is  it  true  that  the 
masseur  and  the  chambermaid  saw  boys  in  your  room?— Entirely 
untrue.  No  one  was  there. 

There  was  no  one  there,  man  or  woman? — ^No. 

You  answer  also  that  the  chambermaid’s  statement  is  untrue?— 
Absolutely. 

You  deny  that  the  bed  linen  was  marked  in  the  way  described? 
— I do  not  examine  bed  linen  when  I arise.  I am  not  a housemaid. 

Were  the  stains  there,  sir? — ^If  they  were,  they  were  not  caused 
in  the  way  the  prosecudon  most  filthily  suggested. 

Re-examined  by  Sir  Edward  Curke— On  the  cross-examination 
of  yourself  in  the  Queensberry  trial,  a name  was  written  on  paper 
as  the  name  of  the  person  who  introduced  Taylor  to  you.  Was 
that  person,  whose  name  was  then  suppressed,  Mr.  Schwabe? — ^Yes. 

Is  Mr.  Schwabe  a gentleman  of  wealth  and  position?— Yes. 

Taylor  was  well  educated,  and  a clever  musician?— A very 
clever  musician.  He  used  to  sing  and  play  a great  deal  at  his 
rooms. 

Had  you  any  idea  at  that  time  of  your  acquaintance  with  Taylor 
that  he  was  a man  addicted  to  improper  practices? — I had  no  con- 
ception whatever— no  conception  whatever  of  anything  of  the  kind. 

Had  you  any  interest  in  Wood  beyond  the  fact  of  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas  knowing  him? — ^None,  except  that  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
asked  me  to  take  an  interest  in  the  young  man  and  be  kind  to  him. 

When  Wood  brought  the  letters  to  you  did  he  attempt  to  get 
money  from  you  for  them?— No.  He  at  once  handed  me  the 
letters,  and  said  he  highly  regretted  that  I should  have  thought  him 
capable  of  trying  to  blackmail  me. 

Is  it  then  positively  untrue  that  you  gave  Wood  ,£15  for  the 
letters? — I would  not  have  given  him  fifteen  pence  for  them.  They 
were  of  no  importance. 

Was  there  anything  in  them  you  would  object  to  have  known? 
—There  may  be  people  who  would  regard  some  of  the  words  as 
frivolous,  but  there  was  nothing  in  the  letters.  They  were  of  no 
importance. 

What  about  the  price  of  the  dinner  at  Kettner’s?— The  dinner 
was  at  a fixed  price.  I have  been  known  at  Kettner’s  ever  since 
I left  Oxford. 

What  did  you  know  about  Charles  Parker? — ^I  understood  that 
he  was  anxious  to  go  on  the  stage  and  that  his  father  was  making 
him  an  allowance. 


X 


321 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

Sir  Edwaud  Clarke — M:>y  it  please  you,  my  lord,  gendemen  of 
the  jury — Having  in  my  mind  the  observations  which,  under  some 
stress  of  feeling  I made  in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  I may  state 
at  the  outset  diat  I recognize  the  admirable  fairness  with  whid 
the  Solicitor-General  cross-examined  Mr.  Wilde.  And  if  earlier 
in  the  day  I was  moved,  by  what  1 am  glad  to  think  I then  described 
as  the  momentary  forgetfulness  of  my  learned  friend  yesterday,  to 
expressions  which  sounded  hostile  in  regard  to  him,  he  will  let  me 
say  at  once,  in  the  frankest  manner,  that  the  way  in  which  he  has 
cross-examined  absolutely  destroys  any  suggestion  which  might 
have  lain  in  my  words. 

[Counsel  dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  his  client  had  invited  pub- 
licity by  his  action  against  Lord  Queensberry,  and  that  the  state- 
ments made  by  him  under  cross-examination  in  that  action 
remained,  with  one  small  exception,  uncontradicted  by  independent 
witnesses.  He  continued  i [ I suggest  to  you,  gentlemen,  that  your 
duty  is  simple  and  clear  and  that  when  you  find  a man  who  is 
assailed  by  tainted  evidence  entering  the  witness-box,  and  for  a third 
time  giving  a clear,  coherent  and  lucid  account  of  the  transactbns, 
such  as  that  which  the  accused  has  given  to-day,  I venture  to  say 
that  that  man  is  entitled  to  be  believed  against  a horde  of  black- 
mailers such  as  you  have  seen.  But  there  is  a larger  issue  still  in 
this  matter.  1 know  not  on  what  grounds  the  course  has  been  taken 
in  this  case  which  has  been  taken  by  the  Crown.  1 will  not  quarrel 
with  it  or  discuss  it,  but  it  is  important  to  remember  that  if  black- 
mailers arc  to  be  listened  to  against  the  defendant  in  this  case,  then 
the  profesaon  of  blackmailing  will  become  a more  deadly  mischief 
than  ever  before. 

This  trial  seems  to  be  operating  as  an  act  of  indemnity  for  all 
the  blackmailers  in  London.  Wood  and  Parker,  in  giving  evidence, 
have  established  for  themselves  a sort  of  statute  of  limitations.  In 
testifying  on  behalf  of  the  Crown  they  have  secured  immunity  for 
past  rogueries  and  indecencies.  It  is  on  the  evidence  of  Parker  and 
Wood  that  you  are  asked  to  condemn  Mr.  Wilde.  And,  Mr. 
Wilde  knew  nothing  of  the  characters  of  these  men.  They  were 
introduced  to  him,  and  it  was  Ms  love  of  admiration  that  caused 
him  to  be  in  their  society.  The  positions  should  really  be  changed. 
It  is  these  men  who  ought  to  be  the  accused,  not  the  accusers.  It 
is  true  that  Charles  Parker  and  Wood  never  made  any  charge 
against  Mr.  Wilde  before  the  plea  of  justification  in  the  libel  case 
was  put  in — ^but  what  a powerful  piece  of  evidence  that  is  in  favour 
of  Mr.  Wilde  1 For  if  Charles  Parker  and  Wood  thought  they  had 
322 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Defence. 

sir  Edvrard  Clarke 

material  for  making  a charge  against  Mr.  Wilde  before  that  date, 
do  you  not  think,  gentlemen,  they  would  have  made  it?  Do  you 
think  that  they  would  have  remained  year  after  year  without  trying 
to  get  something  from  him?  But  Charles  Parker  and  Wood  pre- 
viously made  no  charge  against  Mr.  Wilde,  nor  did  they  attempt 
to  get  money  from  him,  and  that  circumstance  is  one  among  other 
cogent  proofs  to  be  found  in  the  case  that  there  is  no  truth  what- 
ever in  the  accusations  against  Mr.  Wilde. 

[Counsel  argued  at  some  length  that  the  evidence  of  Charles 
Parker  could  not  be  relied  upon,  and  that  there  was  no  corrobora- 
tion of  it.  He  also  submitted  that  there  was  nothing  to  support 
the  counts  charging  the  prisoner  with  having  committed  the  acts 
which  had  been  alleged  with  unknown  persons.  Having  gone 
through  all  the  evidence  carefully,  counsel  concluded : ] You  must 
not  act  upon  suspicion  or  prejudice,  but  upon  an  examination  of 
the  facts,  gentlemen,  and  on  the  facts,  I respectfully  urge  that  Mr. 
Wilde  is  entitled  to  claim  from  you  a verdict  of  acquittal.  If  on 
an  examination  of  the  evidence  you,  therefore,  feel  it  your  duty 
to  say  that  the  charges  against  the  prisoner  have  not  been  proved, 
then  I am  sure  that  you  will  be  glad  that  the  brilliant  promise 
which  has  been  clouded  by  these  accusations,  and  the  bright  reputa- 
tion which  was  so  nearly  quenched  in  the  torrent  of  prejudice  which 
a few  weeks  ago  was  sweeping  through  the  press,  have  been  saved 
by  your  verdict  from  absoiute  nun;  and  that  it  leaves  him,  a dis- 
tinguished man  of  letters  and  a brilliant  Irishman,  to  live  among 
us  a life  of  honour  and  repute,  and  to  give  in  the  maturity  of  his 
genius  gifts  to  our  literature,  of  which  he  has  given  only  the 
promise  in  his  early  youth. 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

[The  Solicitor-Genekal  began  his  speech  by  describing  Sir 
Edward  Clarke’s  defence  of  the  prisoner  as  a brilliant  one,  and  con- 
tinued] : As  regards  the  hardship  which  my  learned  friend  alleges 
to  have  been  inflicted  on  the  defendant  in  being  cross-examined  three 
times,  I am  prepared  to  argue  that  so  far  from  being  placed  at  a 
disadvantage,  there  are  good  grounds  for  coming  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  is  now  better  fitted  and  readier  with  his  answers  than  before. 
[Counsel  developed  this  argument,  and  continued : ] It  is  upon  the 
evidence  only  that  I ask  you  to  condemn  the  accused;  but  you  will 
not  appreciate  the  evidence  until  you  know  what  manner  of  man 
it  is  you  are  dealing  with.  Who  were  his  associates?  He  is  a man 

323 


Oscar  Wilde, 


Tlu  Sollclior'Otnenl 

□f  culture  and  literary  tastes,  and  I submit  that  his  associates  ought 
to  have  been  his  equals  and  not  these  illiterate  boys  whom  you  have 
heard  in  the  witness-box. 

[Counsel  denied  that  the  prosecution  had  behaved  with  any 
unfairness  towards  the  prisoner.  He  went  on  to  say  that,  in  his 
opinion,  those  conducting  the  prosecution  were  quite  right  in  think- 
ing that  a law  officer  of  the  Crown  should  be  instructed  to  appear 
fiar  the  pnosccutiofl.  He  aoaaaaed:]  With  regard  to  the  right  of 
reply  on  behalf  of  the  law  officer,  and  with  reference  to  Sir  Edward 
Clarke’s  observations  that  he  had  never  availed  himself  of  that 
right  when  he  was  a law  officer,  1 say  that  my  learned  friend  had 
no  right  to  lay  down  a rule  which  could  not  affect  others  who  filled 
that  office. 


Third  Trial.  Sixth  Day— Saturday,  25th  May,  1S95. 

Closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution— continued. 

The  Souoitos-Gbnerai,— [Counsel  continued  liis  address  to  the 
jury  with  a detailed  criticism  of  the  answers  which  had  been  given 
by  the  prisoner  to  the  charges  in  the  indictment.  He  submitted 
that  these  explanations  were  not  worthy  of  belief.]  You  cannot  fail 
to  put  the  interpretation  on  the  conduct  of  the  prisoner  that  he  is 
a guilty  man,  and  you  ought  to  say  so  by  your  verdict. 

As  to  the  statement  of  Sir  Edward  Clarke  that  Mr.  Wilde  him- 
self created  inquiry  into  the  matter,  that  statement  of  my  learned 
friend  makes  it  necessary  for  me  to  recall  to  your  minds,  gentlemen, 
the  relative  positions  of  the  parties  in  the  Queensberry  case.  Sir 
Edward  Clarke  has  contended  that  Lord  Queensberry's  libels 
referred  to  events  of  two  years  back,  and  that  in  the  lapse  of  time 
witnessM  for  Mr.  Wilde  have  been  lost  sight  of.  But  I ask  you, 
what  witness  has  been  lost  tight  off  I suggest  to  you  that  it  was 
the  fact  that  Wilde  had  seen  nothing  of  Parker,  and  that  he  could 
rely  implicitly  on  his  intimate  friend  Taylor,  that  encouraged  him 
to  prosecute  Lord  Queensberry. 

Sir  Edward  Ci.aiuib~-I  must  rise  to  ol^cct  to  Mr.  Solicitor- 
General's  rhetorical  descriptions  of  what  has  never  been  proved  in 
evidence,  in  asserting  that  an  intimate  friendship  existed  between 
Mr.  Wilde  and  Taylor. 

The  Soucitor-Genebait— Gentlemen,  it  is  not  rhetoric;  it  is  a 
plain  statement  of  fact.  What  are  the  indications  of  an  intimate 

334 


closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

The  SoUcltoi-General 

friendship?  They  call  each  other  by  their  Christian  names.  Is 
he  not  a great  friend  on  his  own  profession?  Docs  he  not  say  to 
Tayior : “ Bring  your  friends;  they  are  my  friends;  I will  not 
inquire  too  closely  whether  they  come  from  the  stables  or  the 
kitchen  ”?  No  doubt  my  learned  friend  desires  now  to  disconnect 
them.  He  wishes  as  a result  of  this  trial  that  one  should  be  con- 
demned and  the  other  left  free  to  continue  his  grand  literary  career. 

Sir  Edward  Clarm— I protest. 

The  Solicitor-Generm — ^My  friend  hopes  to  preserve  Wilde  by 
means  of  a false  glamour  of  art. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— My  lord,  1 must  protest  against  this  line  of 
argument.  I protest  strongly  against  the  line  the  learned  Solicitor- 
General  is  lalting. 

The  SoLtciTOR-GENERAL— Oh,  you  may  protest. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— So  fat  no  mention  has  been  made  of  the 
verdict  in  the  other  case. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— All  this  is  as  far  removed  from  the 
evidence  as  anything  ever  heard  in  this  Court. 

The  SoLicrroR-GENERAL— I am  alluding,  my  lord,  and  I main- 
tain that  I am  right  in  alluding,  to  my  learned  friend’s  last  apjpl 
to  the  jury  as  to  die  literary  position  of  his  client;  and  I am  dealing 
in  connexion  with  that  with  his  connexion  with  the  man  Taylor, 
and  I say  that  these  men  must  be  judged  equally. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— They  ought  to  have  been  fairly  tried  in 
their  proper  order. 

The  Solicitor-General— Oh,  my  lord,  these  interruptions 
should  avail  my  friend  nothing. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— Mr.  Solicitor-General  is  perfeedy  within  his 
rights.  The  only  objection  is  to  allusions  to  the  result  of  the  trial 
of  Taylor. 

The  SoLioiTOR-GENERAi^My  learned  friend  does  not  seem  to 
have  gained  a great  deal  by  his  superfluity  of  interruption. 
(Laughter.) 


3*5 


Oscar  Wilde. 


The  SoUcUor<(lttiDrul 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — These  inten-uptions  are  offensive  to  me 
beyond  anything  that  can  be  described.  To  have  to  try  a case  of 
this  kind,  to  keep  the  scales  even,  and  do  one’s  duty  is  hard 
enough;  but  to  be  pestered  with  the  applause  or  expressions  of 
feeling  of  senseless  people  who  have  no  business  to  be  here  at  all 
except  for  the  gratification  of  morbid  curiosity,  is  too  much.  I hope 
that  no  further  interruption  of  this  kind  will  be  heard  throughout 
the  rest  of  the  trial.  If  there  is  anything  of  the  kind  again  I shall 
clear  the  Court. 

The  Soiiorroa-GEKEaAL — [Proceeding  to  deal  with  the  relations 
between  the  prisoner  and  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  and  the  blackmail- 
ing by  Wood  which  the  discovery  of  thdr  correspondence  had 
made  possible,  counsel  commented  on  the  famous  “prose  poem”  as 
follows : J I contend  that  sucli  a letter  found  in  the  possession  of  a 
woman  from  a man  would  be  open  to  but  one  interpretation.  How 
much  worse  is  the  inference  to  be  drawn  when  such  a letter  is 
written  from  one  man  to  another.  It  has  been  attempted  to  show 
that  this  was  a prose  poem,  a sonnet,  a lovely  thing  which  I supixise 
we  arc  too  low  to  appreciate.  Gentlemen,  let  us  thank  God,  if  it  is 
so,  that  wc  do  not  appreciate  things  of  this  sort  save  at  their  proper 
value,  and  that  is  somewhat  lower  than  the  beasts.  If  that  letter 
had  been  seen  by  any  right-minded  man,  it  would  have  been  looked 
upon  as  evidence  of  a guilty  passion.  And  you,  men  of  pride, 
reason,  and  honour,  are  tried  to  be  pul  off  with  this  story  of  the 
prose  poem,  of  the  sonnet,  of  the  lovely  thing. 

[After  analysing  various  parages  in  the  letters,  counsel  con- 
tinued ; ] It  is  a common-sense  conclusion  that  Mr.  Wilde  bargained 
with  Wood  and  bought  the  letters.  Indeed  Mr.  Wilde’s  own 
admissions— which  agree  up  to  a certain  point  with  the  evidence 
of  Wood— prove  Wood's  story  to  be  true.  What  necessity  was 
there  for  hfi:.  Wilde  to  give  Wood  supper  in  a private  room  or  to 
tell  him  that  his  family  was  out  of  town?  If  what  Mr.  Wilde  has 
said  is  true  as  to  his  first  meeting  with  Wood,  aU  he  had  to  do  was 
to  hand  over  to  him  the  money  he  was  deputed  to  give  him  and,  if 
he  thought  there  was  aught  in  this  young  man  mat  appealed  to 
his  own  benevolence,  to  add  such  sum  as  provided  for  such  refresh- 
ment as  Wood  mght  desire.  In  my  submission  Wood  has  no 
motive  for  deceiving  you  on  this  occasion.  I say  that  the  transac- 
tion with  regard  to  the  letters  is  capable  of  one  construction  only. 
Mr.  Wilde  knew  they  were  letters  which  he  must  recover;  he 
bought  them  and  tore  them  to  pieces.  He  kept  the  one  which  he 
had  from  Allen,  because  he  knew  that  Mr.  Beerbohm  'Tree  had  a 
326 


Closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

The  SolicltoriGeneral 

copy  of  it,  so  that  it  was  usdess  to  destroy  the  original.  Gentlemen, 
if  you  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  Wilde  did  purchase  these 
letters,  it  throws  a flood  of  light  upon  his  conduct.  It  shows  that 
he  knew  the  class  of  men  with  whom  he  had  been  intimate  and 
with  whom  he  continued  to  be  intimate. 

[Counsel  recapitulated  the  evidence  which  had  been  given  by 
the  Parkers,  and  continued : ] The  fact  of  Mr.  Wilde  never  having 
seen  William  Parker  since  the  dinner  at  Kettner’s  corroborates  the 
evidence  of  the  Parkers  as  to  the  conversation  which  took  place  at 
that  dinner.  Then,  as  in  the  case  of  Wood,  Wilde’s  own  evidence 
contained  admission  after  admission  until  he  came  to  the  point 
at  which  admission  must  cease  and  confession  begin.  Further, 
the  evidence  of  the  waiter  from  the  Savoy  Hotel  corroborates  that 
of  Charles  Parker.  The  waiter,  Becker,  said  that  a supper  was 
served  to  Mr.  Wilde  and  a young  man  in  a private  room.  Parker 
has  described  that  supper,  but  Mr.  Wilde  could  give  no  explana- 
tion as  to  who  his  guest  was— he  could  only  say  that  it  was  not 
Charles  Parker.  Again,  the  evidence  of  Mrs.  Margery  Bancroft, 
who  said  that  she  knew  Mr.  Wilde  perfectly  well  by  sight,  also 
supplies  corroborative  evidence.  So  much  impressed  was  she  by 
what  she  had  seen  that  she  complained  to  Parker’s  landlady,  and 
Parker— apparently  without  complaint  or  remonstrance— was  com- 
pelled to  leave  his  lodgings. 

My  learned  friend  has  said  that  these  witnesses  arc  blackmailers 
and  has  warned  you  against  giving  a verdict  which  should  enable 
this  detestable  trade  to  rear  its  head  unblushingly  in  this  city. 
Gentlemen,  I should  have  as  much  right  to  ask  you  to  take  care 
lest  by  your  verdict  you  should  enable  another  vice,  as  detestable,  as 
abominable,  to  raise  its  head  with  unblushing  eflrontery  in  this 
city.  The  genesis  of  the  blackmailer  is  the  man  who  has  com- 
mitted these  acts  of  indecency  with  him.  And  the  genesis  of  the 
man  who  commits  these  foul  acts  b the  man  who  is  willing  to  pay 
for  their  commission.  Were  it  not  that  there  are  men  willing  to 
purchase  vice  in  this  most  hideous  and  detestable  form,  there  would 
be  no  market  for  such  crime,  and  no  opening  for  these  blackmailers 
to  ply  their  calling. 

[Counsel  went  on  to  discuss  the  relations  which,  he  said,  had 
undoubtedly  existed  between  Taylor,  Wood,  Parker,  and  the 
prisoner,  and  he  thought  it  remarkable  that  the  prisoner  should 
have  made  two  acquaintances,  one  after  the  other,  both  of  whom 
were  new  friends  of  Taylor,  and  both  in  a different  social  position 
from  the  prisoner’s  own.  He  continued : ] With  regard  to  Taylor, 
who  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  trial  was  charged  by  Mr.  Carson 
327 


Oscar  Wilde. 


The  Sellclter-Geneial 

with  procuration  on  behalt  o£  Wilde,  1 must  point  out  that  Taylor 
was  in  Court  during  the  Queensberry  trial,  and  yet  he  was  not  put 
into  the  witness-box.  Again,  one  would  have  thought  that  after 
the  Wood  incident,  Taylor  would  have  been  asked  to  be  careful 
in  the  selection  of  the  friends  he  introduced  to  Mr.  Wilde.  But, 
no.  Taylor  had  carte  blanche  to  bring  along  any  friends  he  pleased, 
He  brought  along  Charles  Parker,  and  it  is  manifest  that  the 
prisoner's  intimacy  with  Charles  Parker  was  not  a matter  of 
ordinary  friendship.  In  connexion  with  Parker’s  testimony  I muK 
repel  the  suggestion  that  Mr.  Russell,  Lord  Queensberry's  solicitor, 
or  any  of  the  representatives  of  the  Crown  have  given  either  fee 
or  reward  to  the  youths  who  have  given  evidence  in  this  case.  All 
the  prosecution  has  done  has  been  to  take  precautions  to  prevent 
tampering  with  those  witnesses,  and  to  ensure  their  attendance  in 
Court.  Naturally  the  witnesses  have  been  removed  secretly  from 
place  to  place,  and  I make  no  apology  for  the  course  the  Crown  has 
taken  in  this  matter.  Charles  Parker,  whose  evidence  gave  rise  to 
this  suggestion,  could  not  possibly  have  had  any  sinister  motive 
in  telling  a story  involving  his  own  shame  and  to  some  extent  hit 
own  condemnation,  for  it  has  never  been  shown  that  Parker, 
whatever  his  past  conduct  may  have  been,  has  attempted  to  atort 
money  from  Mr.  Wilde. 

[Dealing  with  the  Savoy  Hotel  charges,  counsel  said{ : Sir 
Edward  Clarke  has  exaggerated— unintentionally,  of  course— what 
his  lordship  said  yesterday  with  regard  to  die  two  cases  of  the  person 
or  persons  unknown.  My  learned  friend  made  it  appear  as  though 
the  evidence  in  these  cases  was  exceedingly  slender,  but  as  a matter 
of  fact  his  lordship  has  left  that  part  of  the  case  unreservedly  for 
your  consideration,  gentlemen.  Now,  I contend  that  there  is  ample 
evidence  as  to  these  particular  charges.  The  defendant  has  given 
no  explanation  of  the  discoveries  made  by  the  employees  of  the 
hotel.  It  is  no  conclusive  answer  to  say  that  Mr.  Wilde  did  every- 
dung  openly.  If  crime  were  always  cautious,  it  would  always  go 
unpunished,  and  it  is  in  moments  of  carelessness  that  crime  it 
detected,  ^hy  was  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  who  slept  in  the  next 
room,  not  csRed  to  deny  the  statements  of  the  chambermaid?  I 
maintain  that  she  and  the  other  witnesses  from  the  Savoy  Hotel 
could  have  no  possible  object  in  patching  up  a bogus  case. 

[Dealing  with  the  charge  that  the  prosecution  had  dragged  in 
matters  outside  the  indictment,  counsel  said] : There  is  no  reason 
why  Mr.  Wilde  should  not  be  cross-examined  with  reference  to 
other  offences.  You  are  entitled,  gentlemen,  in  the  interests  of 
justice,  to  put  a commonsense  interpretation  upon  the  conditions 

328 


closing  Speech  for  the  Prosecution. 

Tie  Sgllclior-OeiHnl 

and  circumstances  under  which  the  lads  outside  the  present  case 
were  found.  The  case  of  the  boy  Conway,  in  particular,  is  very 
significant.  What  possible  benefit  could  it  be  to  a boy  in  his 
position  to  be  taken  from  Worthing  to  Brighton  and  allowed  to 
■stay  in  a hotel  all  night? 

r Having  commented  further  on  the  evidence,  counsel  con- 
cluded] ; Now,  gentlemen,  I have  been  through  the  whole  of  this 
case.  I have  pointed  out  to  you  its  strength,  and  I have  to  ask 
you  to  do  your  duty  in  regard  to  it.  I have  already  dealt  with 
that — as  I think,  unfortunate — appeal  which  my  learned  friend 
made  as  to  the  literary  past  or  literary  future  of  Oscar  Wilde.  With 
that  we  have  in  this  case  nothing  whatever  to  do,  He  has  a right 
to  be  acquitted  if  you  believe  him  to  be  an  innocent  man,  be  his 
lot  high  or  low.  But  if,  gendemen,  in  your  consciences  you  believe 
that  he  is  guilty  of  these  charges — well,  then  you  have  only  one 
consideration,  and  that  is  to  follow  closely  .the  obligation  of  the 
oath  which  has  been  laid  upon  you. 


Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — Gendemen  of  the  jury,  this  case  is  a most 
difficult  one,  and  my  task  very  severe.  I would  rather  try  the  most 
shocking  murder  case  that  it  has  ever  fallen  to  my  lot  to  try  than 
be  engaged  in  a case  of  this  description.  It  is  a case  which,  noth- 
witbstanding  the  horrible  nature  of  the  charges  involved,  calls  for 
the  cold,  calm,  resolute  administration  of  justice.  Nor  have  my 
difficuldes  and  sense  of  responsibility  been  decreased  by  the  social 
distinction  of  the  defendant. 

Whatever  may  be  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  the  accused,  it  is 
clear  that  Mr.  Wilde  has  been  obliged,  from  the  result  of  the 
Queensberry  trial,  to  confess  that  his  conduct,  espedally  with 
regard  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  has  been  such  that  Lord  Queens- 
berry was  justified  in  applying  to  him  the  words  contained  in  the 
original  libel.  It  is  in  my  opinion  impossible,  therefore,  for  twelve 
intelligent  impartial  and  honest  gentlemen  to  say  there  was  no  good 
ground  for  an  indignant  father,  a loving  and  afiectionate  parent,  to 
charge  Wilde  with  having  "posed"  as  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry 
has  suggested. 

Speaking  now  of  the  conduct  of  this  case,  I must  express  regret 
that  the  charges  of  conspiracy  were  ever  introduced  because,  while 
they  formed  part  of  the  indictment,  it  was  impossible  in  the  earlier 
trial  for  Sir  Edward  Clarke  to  have  taken  the  course  which  he  took 
last  Monday  and  apply  to  have  the  cases  of  Wilde  and  Taylor  tried 
329 


Oscar  Wilde. 

Mr.  Jiwilce  Willi 

stparatcly.  In  my  opinion  the  |oiiiing  ol  the  chaifies  against  the 
twii  prisoners  ot  ilsell  justifed  the  disagreement  of  the  jury  in  the 
totmer  trial.  As  to  the  present  trial  I would  have  preferred  to  try 
the  prisoners  in  a different  order;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I do  not 
think  that  the  defendant  has  suriered  by  the  course  taken  by  the 
Solidtor-General,  nor  do  I drink  that  the  fact  that  Taylor’s  case 
has  been  heard  first  has  in  any  way  prejudiced  the  case  of  'Wilde. 
Whatever  your  verdict  may  be,  gentlemen,  it  cannot  leave  things 
precisely  as  they  were  before  this  trial. 

Speaking  personally  I can  never  bring  myself  to  make  a colour- 
less summing  up  which  is  no  good  to  anybody.  Hence  I call  upon 
you,  gentlemen,  to  look  upon  my  opinions  in  this  case  not  as  views 
which  you  are  expected  to  adopt  but  as  matters  for  your  criticism. 

It  will  be  a bad  day  for  the  administration  of  justice  in  England 
when  juries  sunender  to  any  judge  in  the  land — no  matter  what 
his  learning,  experience  and  ability  may  be— their  own  independent 
judgment  on  the  facts  which  are  before  them.  It  is  the  province  of 
the  jury  to  decide  upon  the  facts  in  any  particular  case.  You  must 
not,  therefore,  surrender  your  own  independent  indgmenl  in  deal- 
ing with  the  facts,  and  you  ought  to  discard  everything  which  is  not 
relevant  to  the  issue  helore  you  and  does  not  assist  your  judgment. 

The  passing  of  the  Act  of  Parliament  which  made  a defendant 
a competent  but  not  a compellable  wilncss'  was  never  intended  to 
alter  or  infringe  upon  the  sacred  old  principle  of  English  law  that 
the  prosecution  must  make  out  the  charge  .against  the  accused. 
But  for  that  Act  many  innocent  persons  might  be  convicted  and 
many  guilty  persons  might  escape.  I have  become  a convert  to  the 
beneficial  nature  of  diat  Act  after  ten  years  experience  of  its  work- 
ing. Speaking  generally,  I must  admit— and  it  is  for  you  to  say 
whether  I am  unduly  stretching  the  remark  in  favour  of  the 
defendant- that  it  is  exceedingly  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  a 
man  to  remember  exaedy  where  he  was  or  with  whom  he  was  two 
years  a^,  and  I think  that  that  fact  is  in  favour  of  the  accused,  as 
far  as  it  goes. 

Coming  now  to  the  evidence,  there  are  three— or  substantially, 
four— charges  in  the  indictment  which  have  to  be  considered. 
There  are  charges  of  improper  conduct  with  Wood  and  Parker,  and 
there  arc  two  charges  with  regard  to  persons  in  the  Savoy  Hotd. 

In  dealing  with  the  case  of  Wood,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to 
avoid  dealing  also  with  that  of  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  Now  Lord 
Alfred  is  not  present  and  is  not  a party  to  these  proceedings,  and 
it  must  be  remembered  in  his  favour  that,  if  neither  side  called  him,. 


^ Cfiminal  Low  Amendment  Act,  xSS^i  sec.  zo.  See  above  p.  71  note^. 

330 


Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Mr,  Justice  'Wills 

he  could  not  volunteer  himself  as  a witness.  Anything,  therefore, 
which  I shall  have  to  say  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas’s  prejudice  arises 
simply  out  of  the  facts  which  have  transpired  in  the  course  of  the 
evidence  you  have  heard.  I am  anxious,  too,  to  say  nothing  in  the 
case  of  a young  man  like  this,  who  is  just  on  the  threshold  of  life, 
which  might  to  a great  extent  blast  his  career.  I do  not  desire  to 
comment  more  than  I can  help  either  about  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
or  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  but  I must  say  that  the  whole  of 
this  lamentable  inquiry  has  arisen  through  the  defendant’s  associa- 
tion with  Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  It  is  true  that  Lord  Alfred’s 
family  seems  to  be  a house  divided  against  itself.  But  even  if  there 
were  nothing  but  hatred  between  father  and  son,  what  father 
would  not  try  to  save  his  own  son  from  the  associations  suggested 
by  the  two  letters  which  you  have  seen  from  the  prisoner  to  Lord 
Alfred  Douglas?  I will  avoid  saying  whether  these  letters  seem  to 
point  to  actual  criminal  conduct  or  not.  But  they  must  be  con- 
sidered m relation  to  the  other  evidence  in  the  case,  and  it  is  for 
you  to  say  whether  their  contents  lend  any  colour  to  Wood’s  story. 

In  itself  the  letter  produced  by  the  prosecution  may  be  con- 
sistent with  perfect  innocence,  and  it  is  not  safe  to  rely  upon  that 
letter  alone.  Mr.  Wilde  claims  to  be  an  exceptional  person,  and 
it  thu'efore  becomes  a question  of  how  much  allowance  may  be 
made  for  this  fact  in  considering  the  letter.  I may  be  dull  myself, 
but  speaking  personally  I cannot  see  the  extreme  beauty  of  the 
language  said  to  be  used.  However,  opinions  may  well  differ  on 
this  point.  But  suppose  that  the  letters  are  “prose  poems,’’  suppose 
that  they  are  things,  of  which  the  intellectual  and  literary  value 
can  only  be  appreciated  by  persons  of  high  culture,  are  they  thereby 
any  the  less  poisonous  for  a young  man?  Is  the  language  of  those 
letters  calculated  to  calm  and  keep  down  the  passions  which  in  a 
young  man  need  no  stimulus?  It  is  strange  that  it  should  not  occur 
to  a gentleman  capable  of  writing  such  letters  that  any  young  man, 
to  whom  they  were  addressed,  must  suffer  in  the  estimation  of 
everybody,  if  it  were  known.  Lord  Queensberry  has  drawn  from 
these  letters  the  conclusion  that  most  fathers  would  draw,  although 
he  seems  to  have  taken  a course  of  action  in  his  method  of  inter- 
fering, which  I think  no  gentleman  would  have  taken,  whatever 
motives  he  had,  in  leaving  at  the  defendant’s  club  a card  containing 
a most  offensive  expression.  This  was  a message  which  left  the 
defendant  no  alternative  but  to  prosecute,  or  else  be  branded 
publicly  as  a man  who  could  not  deny  a foul  charge. 

[His  lordship  proceeded  to  describe  Wood’s  connexion  with  the 
prisoner,  and  also  what  he  called  the  ill-assorted  friendship  between 

331 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  Justice  WIUi 

Wood  and  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  by  whom  he  was  introduced  to 
Wilde,  and  from  whom  he  received  a suit  of  clothes,  the  pockets  ol 
which  contained  the  letters  referred  to.  He  continued : 1 I find  it 
more  understandable  that  a lad  like  Wood  should  be  given  cast-off 
clothes  than  cigarette  cases.  Now,  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  who  was 
on  terms  of  intimacy  with  Wood,  had  just  previously  to  that 
received  a letter  from  the  prisoner,  of  which  it  is  dilEcult  for  me 
to  speak  with  calmness,  as  addressed  from  one  man  to  another.  It 
is  for  you,  however,  to  consider  whether  or  not  that  letter  is  an 
indication  of  unclean  sentiments  and  unclean  appeutes  on  both 
sides.  It  is  to  my  mind  a letter  upon  which  ordinary  people  would 
be  very  liable  to  put  an  uncomfortable  construction. 

I must  further  point  out  to  you  that  Parker  and  Wood  were 
introduced  to  the  accused  for  certain  assistance  a long  time  ago, 
and  also  that,  though  they  have  been  very  industrious  blackmailers 
during  this  interval,  yet  they  did  not  see  Wilde  again  nor  attempt 
to  make  any  charge  against  him  until  now.  That  in  itself  appears 
to  me  to  be  a most  remarkable  fact  and  one  of  overwhelming  influ- 
ence in  this  case.  Again,  there  is  some  truth  in  the  aphorism 
that  a man  must  be  judged  by  the  company  he  keeps.  Gentlemen, 
you  have  seen  the  Parkers,  as  you  have  seen  Wood,  and  the  same 
question  must  arise  in  your  minds.  Arc  these  the  kind  of  young 
men  with  whom  you  yourselves  would  care  to  sit  down  to  dine? 
Are  they  the  sort  of  persons  you  would  expect  to  find  in  the  com- 
pany of  men  of  education  f 

As  to  Wood’s  story  of  the  visit  to  Tite  Street,  it  seems  to  me 
remarkable  for  a man  like  Mr.  Wilde  even  to  foregather  with  a man 
of  the  social  position  of  Wood.  But  the  accused  has  said  ^ is 
himself  an  exceptional  person  who  disregards  social  distinctions; 
and  it  is  only  fair  to  say  that  Wilde  never  professed  any  liking  for 
Wood— he  said  he  had  taken  an  interest  in  him  simply  because  he 
had  been  asked  to.  If  Wood’s  story  of  the  visit  to  Tite  Street  is 
true,  I think  it  might  have  been  possible  to  obtain  some  corrobora- 
tion, but  this  the  learned  counsel  lor  the  prosecution  has  not  done. 
I think  too  that,  if  Wood  really  had  been  in  that  house,  this 
witness  would  have  been  able  to  pve  a more  detailed  description  of 
his  visit  than  he  has  done  in  the  course  of  his  evidence.  As  for 
the  letters  which  Wood  got  possession  of,  if  they  really  had  been 
harmless  why  id  not  Wilde  keep  tiiem?  They  would  have  been 
useful  in  answer  to  such  a charge,  as  he  knew,  from  the  value 
which  those  men  put  upon  them,  might  be  brought  against  him. 
But  I doubt  very  much  whether  the  letters  were  harmless  and 
tiivial. 


33* 


Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Mr.  Justice  Wilts 

In  my  opinion,  the  stress  of  the  case  with,  regard  to  Wood 
depends  upon  the  character  of  the  original  introduction  of  Wood 
to  Wilde.  Do  you  believe  that  Wilde  was  actuated  by  charitable 
motives  or  by  improper  motives?  On  the  question  of  corrobora- 
tion, you  are  not  expected,  because  corroboration  in  cases  of  such 
a kind  as  this  is  difhcult  to  obtain,  to  be  satisfied  with  less  corro- 
boration than  you  would  be  it  it  were  easy  to  obtain.  Unless  you 
feel  that  Wood’s  evidence  is  corroborated,  you  must  not  act  upon 
it,  because  Wood  is  a blackmailer,  a person  belonging  to  the  vilest 
type  of  men  which  great  cities  produce  and  which  society  is 
pestered  with. 

The  Foreman  op  the  Jury— In  view  of  the  intimacy  between 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas  and  Wilde,  was  a warrant  ever  issued  for  the 
apprehension  of  Lord  Alfred  Douglas? 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— I should  think  not.  We  have  not  heard  of 
it. 


The  Foreman  of  the  Jury— Was  it  ever  contemplated? 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— Not  to  my  knowledge.  A warrant  would 
in  any  case  not  be  issued  without  evidence  of  some  fact,  of  some- 
thing more  than  intimacy.  I cannot  tell,  nor  need  we  discuss  that, 
because  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  may  yet  have  to  answer  a charge. 
He  was  not  called.  There  may  be  a thousand  considerations  of 
which  we  may  know  nothing  that  might  prevent  his  appearance 
in  the  witness-box.  I think  you  should  deal  with  the  matter  upon 
the  evidence  before  you. 

The  Foreman  of  the  Jury — ^But  it  seems  to  us  that  if  we  are  to 
consider  these  letters  as  evidence  of  guilt,  and  if  we  adduce  any 
guilt  from  these  letters,  it  applies  as  much  to  Lord  Alfred  Douglas 
as  to  the  defendant. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— Quite  so.  But  how  does  that  relieve  the 
defendant?  Our  present  inquiry  is  whether  guilt  is  brought  home 
to  the  man  in  the  dock.  We  have  got  the  testimony  of  his  guilt  to 
deal  with  now.  I believe  that  to  be  the  recipient  of  such  letters 
and  to  continue  the  intimacy  is  as  fatal  to  the  reputation  of  the 
recipient  as  to  the  sender,  but  you  have  really  nothing  to  do  with 
that  at  present. 

There  is  a natural  disposition  to  ask,  " Why  should  this  man 
stand  in  the  dock,  and  not  Lord  Alfred  Douglas?”  But  the  sup- 
position that  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  will  be  spared  because  he  is  Lord 
333 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Mr.  Justko  Wim 

Alfred  Douglas  is  one  of  the  wildest  injustice— the  thing  is  utterly 
and  hopelessly  impossible.  I must  remind  you  that  anything  that 
can  be  said  for  or  against  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  must  not  be  allowed 
to  prejudice  the  prisoner;  and  you  must  remember  that  no  prosecu- 
tion would  be  possible  on  the  mere  production  of  Wilde’s  letters  to 
Lord  Alfred  Douglas.  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  as  you  all  know,  went 
to  Paris  at  the  request  of  the  defendant,  and  there  he  has  stayed, 
and  I know  absolutely  nothing  more  about  him.  I am  as  ignorant 
in  this  respect  as  you  are.  It  may  be  that  there  is  no  evidence 
against  Lord  Alfred  Douglas — but  even  about  that  I know  nothing. 
It  is  a thing  we  cannot  discuss,  and  to  entertain  any  such  considera- 
tion as  I have  mentioned  would  be  a prejudice  of  the  worst  possible 
kind. 

Turning  now  to  the  case  of  Charles  Parker,  you  will  bear  in 
mind  that  some  of  my  previous  remarks  apply  here,  though  there 
are,  of  course,  differences  between  the  two  cases.  Parker  seems  to 
have  been  introduced  to  Wilde  by  Taylor,  and  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  Taylor  was  a friend  of  Wilde.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
amount  of  intercourse  between  Wilde  and  Taylor  proved  by  the 
prosecution  is  not  very  great.  However,  the  admissions  made  by 
Wilde  as  to  the  innocent  nature  of  his  acquaintance  with  Parker 
ate  certainly  remarkable,  and  it  is  for  you  to  decide  whether  the 
explanations  are  satisfactory.  If  you  tliink  that  the  visit  to  Park 
Walk  has  been  made  out,  then  it  is  a very  strange  thing,  and  it 
must  be  remembered  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  said  against  the 
person  who  confirmed  that  part  of  the  case,  Mrs.  Margery  Bancroft, 
If  anything  could  have  been  found  against  her,  it  would  have  been 
found  by  the  defence.  You  must,  therefore,  recognize  that  she  is 
not  a street  walker  nor  a disreputable  woman,  and  that  she  has 
been  for  years  in  her  situation.  Her  evidence  is  good  and  entitled 
to  belief,  because  it  is  difficult  to  see  any  wrong  motive  that  she 
could  have  in  coming  forward  to  blast  die  reputation  of  a man. 
At  this  point,  gentlemen,  I am  confronted  with  a difficulty— 
namely,  the  rule  of  law  which  prevents  witnesses  from  telling  what 
he  or  she  has  heard  from  someone  else.  Consequendy,  it  has  not 
transpired  what  was  the  full  extent  of  the  complaint  made  by  Mrs. 
Bancroft  to  the  landlady  of  the  house  in  Park  Walk.  You  will 
have  to  draw  your  own  inferences  from  the  wimess’s  evidence,  and 
also  to  put  what  construction  yon  think  most  reasonable  on  Parker’s 
story  generally,  taken  in  conjunction  with  all  the  surrounding  cir- 
cumstances. 

Now,  gendemen,  you  must  not  presume  that  the  mere  fact  of 
two  men  sleeping  together  is  something  to  be  punished.  Poverty 
334 


Charge  to  the  Jury. 

Mr.  Justice  WiUs 

and  misery  frequendy  compel  this  to  happen,  and  drive  even  men 
and  women  to  sleep  together  promiscuously.  God  forbid  that  I 
should  say  that  that  in  itself  is  to  he  considered  a serious  crime. 
But  when  we  come  to  a man  who  is  spending  or  a week, 
it  seems  astonishing  to  me  that  he  should  not  get  at  least  the  whole 
use  of  a bed  for  his  money,  and  it  is  natural  to  ask  why  he  did  not 
offer  another  room  to  his  guest.  As  for  the  evidence  of  the  waiter 
in  the  hotel,  it  is  a very  long  time  ago  for  a waiter  to  remember 
having  served  a supper  at  the  Savoy.  The  sums  too  which  appeared 
on  the  bill  are  high  for  such  a supper.  I know  nothing  about  the 
Savoy,  but  I must  say  that  in  my  view  “ Chicken  and  salad  for  two, 
i6s.”  is  very  high.  I am  afraid  I shall  never  have  supper  there 
myself. 

I must  state  here  that  I vidsh  that  medical  evidence  had  been 
called.  It  is  a loathsome  sul^cct,  hut  I make  a point  of  never 
shrinking  from  details  that  are  absolutely  necessary.  The  medical 
evidence  would  have  thrown  light  on  what  has  been  alluded  to  as 
marks  of  grease  or  vaseline  smears.  Then,  with  reference  to  the 
condition  of  the  bed,  there  was  the  diarrheea  line  of  defence.  That 
story,  I must  say,  I am  not  able  to  appreciate.  I have  tried  many 
other  similar  cases,  but  I have  never  heard  that  before.  It  did 
strike  me  as  being  possible;  but  more  than  anything  else  it 
impressed  me  with  the  importance  of  medical  evidence  in  such  a 
case,  which  evidence  unfortunately  we  have  not  had.  The  worst 
state  of  the  sheets  was  not  alleged  on  the  date  the  boy  was  said  to 
have  been  seen  in  the  bed  by  the  chambermaid  Cotter.  There  was 
the  same  sort  of  thing,  said  the  woman,  but  not  so  bad. 

But,  of  course,  the  evidence  of  the  Savoy  Hotel  servants, 
after  a long  lapse  of  time,  must  not  be  entirely  relied  upon. 
If  a servant  noticed  anything  wrong  and  said  nothing  about  it  for 
two  years,  then  I would  not  conader  tliat  as  evidence  on  which  I 
would  hang  a dog.  It  is,  in  my  opinion,  a strange  thing  that  this 
should  not  be  made  a matter  of  inquiry  till  two  years  afterwards. 
The  evidence  of  Migge,  the  masseur,  is  remarkable,  but  here  again 
it  is  not  safe  to  rely  on  it.  The  evidence  of  the  woman,  Jane  Cotter, 
is  no  less  extraordinary,  no  matter  from  what  point  it  is  viewed. 
The  thing  that  strikes  me  as  most  remarkable  about  her  story  is  that, 
though  the  housekeeper  was  acquainted  with  what  had  been  seen, 
absolutely  no  notice  was  taken  of  the  circumstance.  Why,  Mrs. 
Perkins,  the  housekeeper,  became  an  accomplice  in  the  whole  affair, 
and— without  saying  she  is  as  bad  as  any  of  them— I do  say  it  was 
a very  great  breach  in  her  sense  of  right  in  those  matters.  She 
herself  has  admitted  that  Cotter,  the  chwnbermaid,  had  made  com- 
335 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Ml'.  Jnttlct  Willt 

mimications  lo  her,  and  I consider  lliaL  if  die  housekeeper  was 
informed  of  the  condition  of  the  room,  and  of  the  boy  having  been 
seen  in  the  bed,  and  if  she  yet  took  no  steps  to  prevent  such  a 
thing  in  die  future,  she  was  liable  to  become  an  accessory  before 
the  fact  in  the  event  of  it  being  repeated.  It  is  a condition  of  things 
one  shudders  to  contemplate  in  a first-class  hotel.  If  it  can  be 
assumed  that  such  practices  could  be  tolerated  with  a man  who, 
it  seems,  was  running  up  a bill  of  /50  a week,  then  it  will  look  as 
if  we  are  coming  m a slate  of  society  when  it  will  be  possible  to 
have  a magnificently  built  place  of  accommodation  on  the  Thames 
Embankment. 

[Having  considered  the  whole  of  the  evidence,  his  lordship 
concluded  by  saying  that  the  question  to  be  answered  by  the  jury 
was  whether  there  was  evidence  of  guilt  or  of  suspicion  only. 
Finally,  he  thanked  the  jury  for  the  patience  they  had  dispkiyed 
throughout  the  prolonged  hearing.] 

The  JuRT  retired  to  consider  their  verdict  at  half-past  three. 
They  returned  into  Court  at  twenty-five  minutes  to  six. 

The  Foreman— My  lord,  would  you  read  yom'  notes  of  the 
evidence  of  Thomas  Price,  the  waiter,  as  to  the  alleged  visits  of 
Charles  Parker  to  the  prisoner’s  rooms  at  10  St.  Jimies’s  Place? 

Mr.  Justice  Wiils— There  is  evidence  as  to  only  one  of  the 
counts  in  reference  to  Sc.  James’s  Place.  [His  lordship  read  his 
notes  of  Price’s  evidence,  adding  a few  words  of  liis  own,  which 
seemed  to  imply  that  this  part  of  the  case  was  not  essentially 
important.] 

The  Jury  again  retired,  but  returned  into  Court  a few  minutes 
later. 


Verdict. 

The  Clerk,  or  Arraigns— Gentlemen,  have  you  agreed  upon 
your  verdict? 

The  Foreman  or  the  Jury— We  have. 

The  Clerk  or  Arraigns — Do  you  find  the  prisoner  at  the  bar 
guilty  of  an  act  of  gross  indecency  with  Carles  Parker  at  the 
Savoy  Hotel  on  the  night  of  his  first  introduction  to  him?  (Count  i.) 

336 


Verdict. 


The  Fohkmak — Guilty. 

The  Clesk  01-  Akhaigns — ^Do  you  find  him  guilty  of  a similar 
offence  a week  later?  (Count  4.) 

The  Foreman — Guilty. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns— Do  you  find  him  guilty  of  the  offence 
at  St.  James’s  Place?  (Count  5.) 

The  Forevian— Guilty. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns— Do  you  find  him  guilty  of  this  offence 
at  about  the  same  period?  (Count  6.) 

The  Foreman— Guilty. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns- Do  you  find  him  guilty  ol  a similar 
offence  with  Alfred  Woqd  at  Tite  Street?  (Count  13.) 

The  Foreman — Guilty. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns — Do  you  find  him  guilty  of  the  offence 
in  Room  362  of  the  Savoy  Hotel?  (Count  18.) 

The  Foreman— Guilty. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns— Do  you  find  him  guilty  of  the  offence 
in  Room  346  of  the  Savoy  Hotel?  (Count  19.) 

The  Foreman— Guilty. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns— Do  you  find  him  guilty  on  all  counts 
in  the  indictment  except  that  relating  to  Edward  Shelley? 
(Count  25.) 

The  Foreman— Yes.  Not  guilty  on  that  count. 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns— And  is  that  the  verdict  of  you  all? 

The  Foreman— Guilty. 

T 


337 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Sentence. 

(Taylor  was  placed  in  the  dock  beside  Wilde,) 

Sir  Edward  Clarke — I have  to  suggest  to  your  lordship  that 
you  will  not  pass  sentence  until  the  next  sessions.  There  is  a 
demurrer  on  record  which  has  to  be  argued,  and  I submit  that  it 
would  be  well  to  postpone  passing  sentence  in  order  that  that 
argument  may  be  considered. 

Mr.  Grain— I do  not  know  how  far  that  will  affect  the  case  of 
Mr.  Taylor,  but  I think  it  would  afiect  him  equally.  Therefore,  if 
1 may  re-echo  the  observation  of  Sir  Edward  Clarke,  I would  make 
the  same  application. 

The  Solicitou-General— I oppose  the  application.  The  matter 
has  been  argued  and  decided.  It  relates  to  certain  counts  not 
included  in  this  indictment;  and  passing  sentence  now  can  in  no 
way  affect  any  argument  that  may  be  raised  at  any  future  time. 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— The  conspiracy  counts  arc  contained  in 
the  indictment. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills— But  there  is  a verdict  of  Not  Guilty  on 
them.  What  is  the  contention? 

Sir  Edward  Clarke— That  the  indictment  was  bad,  there  being 
a different  mode  of  trial.  In  a case  of  conspiracy  the  defendants  are 
not  capable  of  being  witnesses,  but  in  the  other  they  arc  capable 
of  giving  evidence  and  they  plead  to  that  indictment  alone.  The 
demurrer  is  just  as  arguable,  whatever  has  taken  place  since. 

Mr.  Gill — ^That  question  was  argued  before  Mr.  Justice  Charles, 
and  he  held  the  indictment  to  be  perfeedy  good. 

The  Solicitor-General— Sentence  can  be  passed  without  pre- 
judicing the  argument  before  the  Court  of  Crown  Cases  Reserved. 

Mr.  Justice  Wills — Of  the  correctness  of  the  indictment  I have 
myself  no  doubt.  But,  in  any  case,  my  passing  sentence  will  not 
interfere  with  the  arguing  of  the  point  raised,  and  I think  it  my 
duty  to  pass  sentence  at  once.  It  is  not  a matter  about  which  I 
entertain  any  doubt;  and  to  pass  sentence  now  will  in  no  sense  pre- 

338 


Sentence. 


Mr.  Justice  Wills 

judice  the  result  of  the  inquiry.  I think  it  may  be  well  to  complete 
the  proceedings  here  on  other  counts. 

(To  the  prisoners) — Oscar  Wilde  and  Alfred  Taylor,  the  crime 
of  which  you  have  been  convicted  is  so  bad  that  one  has  to  put  stern 
restramt  upon  one's  self  to  prevent  one’s  self  from  describing,  in 
language  which  I would  rather  not  use,  the  sentiments  which  must 
rise  to  the  breast  of  every  man  of  honour  who  has  heard  the  details 
of  these  two  terrible  trials.  That  the  jury  have  arrived  at  a correct 
verdict  in  this  case  I cannot  persuade  myself  to  entertain  the  shadow 
of  a doubt;  and  I hope,  at  all  events,  that  those  who  sometimes 
imagine  that  a judge  is  half-hearted  in  the  cause  of  decency  and 
morality  because  he  takes  care  no  prejudice  shall  enter  into  the  case, 
may  see  that  that  is  consistent  at  least  with  the  utmost  sense  of 
indignation  at  the  horrible  charges  brought  home  to  both  of  you. 

It  is  no  use  for  me  to  address  you.  People  who  can  do  these 
things  must  be  dead  to  all  sense  of  shame,  and  one  eannot  hope  to 
produce  any  effect  upon  them.  It  is  the  worst  case  I have  ever 
tried.  That  you,  Taylor,  kept  a kind  of  male  brothel  it  is  impossible 
to  doubt.  And  that  you,  Wilde,  have  been  the  centre  of  a circle  of 
extensive  corruption  of  the  most  hideous  kind  among  young  men, 
it  is  equally  impossible  to  doubt. 

I shall,  under  such  circumstances,  be  expected  to  pass  the  severest 
sentence  diat  the  law  allows.  In  my  judgment  it  is  totally 
inadequate  for  such  a case  as  this.  The  sentence  of  the  Court  is 
that  each  of  you  be  imprisoned  and  kept  to  hard  labour  for  two 
years. 

[Some  cries  of  “Oh!  Oh!”  and  “Shame”  were  heard  in 
Court.] 

Oscar  Wilde— And  I?  May  I say  nothing,  my  lord? 

[His  lordship  made  no  reply  beyond  a wave  of  the  hand  to  the 
warders,  who  hurried  the  prisoners  out  of  sight.] 

The  Jury  were  discharged. 

The  Court  adjourned. 


339 


Appendix  A. 


APPENDIX  A, 


PLEA  OF  JUSTIFICATION  FILED  BY  THE  DEFENDANT 
IN  REGINA  (WILDE}  v.  QUEENSBERRY.^ 

Central  Criminal  Court.  To  wit : At  the  Sessions  of  Oyer  and 
Terminer  and  General  Gaol  Delivery  holden  for  the  Central 
Criminal  Court  District  at  Justice  Hall  Old  Bailey  in  the  Suburbs 
of  the  City  of  London  on  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  March  in  the  year 
of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-five  comes  into 
Court  the  said  John  Sholto  Douglas  Marquess  of  Queensberry  in  his 
own  proper  person  and  having  heard  the  said  Indictment  read  says 
he  is  not  guilty  of  the  premises  in  the  said  Indictment  above 
specified  and  charged  upon  him  and  of  this  the  said  John  Sholto 
Douglas  Marquess  of  Queensberry  puts  himself  upon  the  Country. 

Second  Plea. 

And  for  a further  plea  in  this  behalf  to  the  Second  Count  of  the 
said  Indictment  the  said  John  Sholto  Douglas  Marquess  of  Queens- 
berry says  that  our  Lady  the  Queen  ought  not  furAer  to  prosecute 
the  said  Second  Count  of  the  said  Indictment  against  him  because 
he  says  that  the  said  alleged  libel  according  to  the  natural  meanmg 
of  the  words  thereof  is  true  in  substance  and  in  fact  in  that  the 
said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flaherde  Wills  Wilde  between  the  month  of 
February  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
ninety-two  and  the  month  of  May  in  the  same  year  at  the  Albemarle 
Hotel  in  the  County  of  London  did  solicit  and  incite  one  Edward 
Shelley  to  commit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  with 
him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flaherde  Wills  Wilde  and  that  the 
said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flaherrie  Wills  Wilde  did  then  indecently 
assault  and  commit  acts  of  gross  indecency  and  immorality  with  the 
said  Edward  Shelley. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  in  the 
month  of  October  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety-two  at  the  said  Albemarle  Hotel  did  solicit  and 
incite  one  Sidney  Mayor  to  commit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of  gross 
indecency  and  immorality  and  did  then  and  there  commit  the  said 


1 Prom  th«  original  preserved  in  the  records  of  the  Central  Criminal  Cotut, 
London. 


341 


Oscar  Wilde. 


other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and  immorality  with  the  said  Sidney 
Mavor. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flaherdc  Wills  Wilde  on  the 
twentieth  day  of  November  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  ninety-two  at  a house  situate  at  29  Boulevard 
des  Capucines  in  Paris  in  the  Republic  of  France  did  solicit  and 
incite  one  Frederick  Atkins  to  commit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of 
gross  indecency  and  immorality  with  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal 
O’Flahertle  Wills  Wilde  and  did  then  and  there  commit  the  said 
other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and  iminorality  with  the  said  Frederick 
Atkins. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  on  the 
twenty-second  day  of  November  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-two  at  the  said  house  in  Paris 
did  solicit  and  incite  one  Maurice  Salis  Schwabe  to  commit  sodomy 
and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and  immorality  with  the  said 
Maurice  Salis  Schwabe. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  at  the 
said  house  situate  in  Paris  between  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  January 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety- 
three  and  the  fifth  day  of  February  in  the  said  year  did  solicit  and 
incite  certain  boys  to  the  Defendant  unknown  U)  commit  sodomy 
and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and  immorality  with  him  the  said 
Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wilk  Wilde  and  did  then  and  there 
commit  the  said  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and  immorality  with 
the  said  boys. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  in 
the  month  of  January  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety-three  at  Ae  house  situate  at  and  being  No.  16 
The  Street  in  the  County  of  London  did  solicit  and  incite  one 
Alfred  Wood  to  conunit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency 
and  immorality  with  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills 
Wilde  and  did  then  and  there  commit  the  said  other  acts  of  gross 
indecency  and  immorality  with  the  said  Alfred  Woods. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  about 
the  seventh  day  of  March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand 
right  hundred  and  ninety-three  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  in  the  County 
of  London  did  solidt  and  incite  a certain  boy  to  the  Defendant 
unknown  to  commit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and 
immorality  with  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde 
and  did  then  and  there  commit  the  said  other  acts  of  gross  indecency 
and  immorality  with  the  said  boy  unknown. 

342 


Appendix  A, 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  on  or 
about  the  twentieth  day  of  March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  at  the  said  Savoy  Hotel 
did  solicit  and  incite  another  boy  to  the  Defendant  unknown  to 
commit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  the  said 
Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and  did  there  commit  the 
said  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  with  the  said  last  mentioned  boy. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  in  the 
said  month  of  March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety-three  at  the  said  Savoy  Hotel  and  again  in  or 
about  the  month  of  April  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  at  a house  situate  and  being  No.  7 
Camera  Square  and  again  in  or  about  the  month  of  April  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three 
at  a house  situate  at  and  being  No.  50  Park  Walk  and  again  between 
the  month  of  October  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety-three  and  the  month  of  April  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord  One  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-four  at  a house 
situate  and  being  No.  10  St.  James  Place  aU  in  the  County  of 
London  did  on  each  of  the  said  occasions  incite  one  Charles  Parker 
to  commit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and  immorality 
with  him  the  said  Oscar  Fin^l  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  and  did 
then  and  there  commit  the  said  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and 
immorality  with  the  said  Charles  Parker. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  between 
the  month  of  October  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety-three  and  the  month  of  April  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  One  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-four  at  the  said 
house  No.  10  St.  James  Place  did  solicit  and  incite  one  Ernest  Scarfe 
to  commit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and  immorality 
with  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flaherrie  Wills  Wilde  and  did 
then  and  there  commit  the  said  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and 
immorality  with  the  said  Ernest  Scarfe. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  in  the 
said  month  of  March  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety-three  at  the  said  Savoy  Hotel  did  take  indecent 
liberties  with  one  Herbert  Tankard. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  or 
several  occasions  in  the  month  of  June  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three  in  the  City  of  Oxford 
and  also  upon  several  occasions  in  the  months  of  June  July  and 
August  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
ninety-three  at  a house  called  “The  Cottage”  at  Goring  in  the 


Oscar  Wilde. 


County  o£  Oxford  did  solicit  and  incite  one  Walter  Grainger  to 
commit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency  and  immorality 
with  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flalicrtie  Wills  Wilde  and  did 
then  and  there  commit  the  said  odicr  acts  of  gross  indecency  and 
immorality  with  the  said  Walter  Grainger. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flaliertie  Wills  Wilde  upon 
several  occasions  in  the  months  of  August  and  September  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-four  at 
Worthing  in  the  County  of  Sussex  and  on  or  about  the  twenty- 
seventh  day  of  September  in  the  said  year  at  the  Albion  Hotel 
Brighton  in  the  same  County  did  solicit  and  incite  one  Alfonso 
Harold  Conway  to  commit  sodomy  and  other  acts  of  gross  indecency 
and  immorality  with  him  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills 
Wilde. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  did 
in  fact  at  the  said  times  and  places  commit  the  said  other  acts  of 
gross  indecency  with  the  said  Alfonso  Harold  Conway. 

And  that  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertic  Wills  Wilde  in  the 
month  of  July  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  ninety  did  write  and  publish  and  cause  and  procure  to  be 
printed  and  published  with  his  name  upon  the  title  page  thereof  a 
certain  immoral  and  obscene  work  in  the  form  of  a narrative 
entitled  “The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray"  which  said  work  was 
designed  and  intended  by  the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertic  Wills 
Wilde  and  was  understood  by  the  readers  thereof  to  describe  the 
relations  intimacies  and  passions  of  certain  persons  of  sodomitical 
and  unnatural  habits  tastes  and  practices. 

And  that  in  the  month  of  December  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
One  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-four  was  published  a 
certain  other  immoral  and  obscene  work  in  the  form  of  a magazine 
entitled  “The  Chameleon”  which  said  work  contained  divers 
obscene  matters  and  things  relating  to  the  practices  and  passions 
of  persons  of  sodomitical  and  urmatural  habits  and  tastes  and  that 
the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  published  bis  name 
on  the  contents  sheet  of  the  said  magazine  as  its  first  and  principal 
contributor  and  published  in  the  said  magazine  certain  immoral 
maxims  as  an  introduction  to  the  same  under  the  title  of  “Phrases 
and  Philosophies  for  the  Use  of  the  Young.” 

And  the  said  John  Sholto  Douglas  Marquess  of  Queensberry 
further  says  that  at  the  time  of  the  publishing  of  ^e  said  alleged 
libel  in  the  second  count  charged  and  stated  it  was  for  the  public 
benefit  that  the  matter  contained  therein  should  be  published  because 
before  and  at  the  time  of  the  publishing  of  the  said  alleged  libel  the 
344 


Appendix  A. 


said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  was  a man  of  letters 
and  a dramatist  of  prominence  and  notoriety  and  a person  who 
exercised  considerable  influence  over  young  men,  that  the  said 
Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  claimed  to  be  a fit  and  proper 
person  to  give  advice  and  instruction  to  the  young  and  had  pub- 
lished the  said  maxims  hereinbefore  mentioned  in  the  said  magazine 
entitled  “The  Chameleon”  for  circulation  amongst  students  of 
the  University  of  Oxford,  and  that  the  said  works  entitled  “The 
Chameleon”  and  “The  Picture  of  Dorian  Gray”  were  calculated 
to  subvert  morality  and  to  encourage  unnatural  vice,  and  that  the 
said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  had  corrupted  and 
debauched  the  morals  of  the  said  Charles  Parker,  Alfonso  Harold 
Conway,  Walter  Grainger,  Sidney  Mavor,  Frederick  Atkins,  Ernest 
Scarfe  and  Edward  Shelley  as  aforesaid,  and  that  the  said  Oscar 
Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  had  committed  the  oflences  afore- 
mentioned and  the  said  sodomitical  practices  for  a long  time  with 
impunity  and  without  detection  wherefore  it  was  for  the  public 
benefit  and  interest  that  the  matter  contained  in  the  said  alleged 
libel  should  be  published  and  that  the  true  character  and  habits  of 
the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  should  be  known  that 
the  said  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahertie  Wills  Wilde  might  be  prevented 
from  further  committing  such  offences  and  further  debauching  the 
liege  subjects  of  our  said  Lady  the  Queen  and  that  such  liege  sub- 
jects being  forewarned  might  avoid  the  corrupting  influence  of  the 
said  Oscar  Fingal  O'Flahertie  Wills  Wilde. 

And  this  the  said  John  Sholto  Douglas  Marquess  of  Queensberry 
is  ready  to  verify  wherefor  he  prays  Judgment  and  that  by  the  Court 
he  may  be  discharged  and  dismissed  from  the  said  premises  in  the 
said  indictment  above  specified. 

(Signed)  Charles  F.  Gill. 

Dated  and  filed  this  thirtieth  day  of  March,  1895,  by  Charles 
Russell,  solicitor  to  the  said  Marquess  of  Queensberry. 


?45 


Oscar  Wilde. 


APPENDIX  B 

LORD  ALFRED  DOUGLAS  AND  SIR  EDWARD  CLARKE 

In  later  life  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  severely  impugned  Sir  Edward 
Clarke’s  conduct  of  all  three  cases  in  which  he  appeared  for  Wilde. 
However,  it  is  worthy  of  record  that  at  the  time  of  the  trials  them- 
selves Douglas  professed  himself  more  than  Siitisfied  with  Clarke's, 
forensic  endeavours  on  his  client’s  behalf. 

It  will  be  rememhered  that  Douglas  was  present  throughout  the 
proceedings  taken  by  Wilde  at  the  Old  Bailey  against  his  father,  but 
he  was  subsequently  prevailed  upon  by  Wilde’s  solicitors  to  leave 
the  country  on  the  eve  of  the  next  trial.  In  France,  where  he  stayed 
first  at  Calais  and  later  at  Rouen,  he  received  the  newspaper  reports 
of  the  pioceediiigs.  He  again  offered  to  give  evidence  for  Wilde 
and  he  telegraphed  in  tltis  sense  to  Clarke,  only  to  receive  a well- 
merited  rebuke  from  the  solidlors,  who  informed  Itim  that  his 
telegram  was  most  improper  and  adjured  him  not  to  attempt  any 
furtfier  interference  “which  can  only  have  the  effect  of  rendering 
Sir  Edward's  task  still  harder  than  it  is  already.’’ 

After  the  conclusion  of  the  last  trial  Douglas  sent  Clarke  a 
further  communicadon,  this  drae  in  the  form  of  a letter,  in  which 
he  expressed  his  warm  appreciation  of  what  Clarke  had  done.  In 
view  of  the  blame  which  Douglas  subsequently  attached  to  Clarke, 
this  letter  is  of  considerable  interest.^ 


“Hotel  De  La  Poste, 
Rouen. 

Sunday,  26th  May,  1895. 

Dear  Sir  Edward, 

You  will  forgive  me  I am  sure  for  writing  to  you  now 
to  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  for  your  noble 
generous  and  superb  efforts  on  beha'f  of  my  friend. 

It  seems  almost  an  impertinence  from  one  so  miserable  as 
myself,  so  broken  in  heart  [and]  in  spirit,  so  defamed  and 
ruined  to  offer  you  my  poor  gratitude,  but  believe  me  I shall 


^ I am  indebted  to  Sir  Edward  Clarke's  grandson,  Mr.  Edward  Clarke^  for 
enabling  me  to  reproduce  the  text  of  his  letter  and  the  two  others  quoted  in  tbh 
appendix, 

346 


Appendix  B. 


never  cease  to  think  of  you  but  with  the  profoundest  gradtude 
and  admiradon.  That  you  were  unable  to  get  a verdict  seems 
to  me,  a layman,  a piece  of  monstrous  injusdce,  and  the 
sentence  was  worse  than  I would  have  thought  possible  after 
the  first  disagreement. 

Forgive  this  intrusion  from  one  who  is  lying  in  the  lowest 
hell  of  misery,  and  believe  me  to  be 

Yours  ever  gratefully  and  sincerely, 

Alfred  Douglas.” 

In  his  book,  Oscar  Wilde  and  Myself,  which  was  published  in 
1914,  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  continued  to  write  favourably  of  Clarke, 
pointing  out  that  far  from  throwing  up  the  sponge  after  the  collapse 
of  the  Queensberry  prosecudon,  he  had  defended  Wilde  in  the  two 
subsequent  trials  without  fee.“ 

During  the  following  years  Douglas  came  to  adopt  and  to  lose 
no  opportunity  in  expounding  a very  different  view.  In  a long  letter 
which  he  wrote  to  Frank  Harris  in  1925,  and  which  was  designed 
to  form  part  of  a new  preface  to  Harris’s  life  of  Wilde,  Douglas 
attributed  the  collapse  of  the  Queensberry  prosecution  to  Clara's 
having  abandoned  his  declared  intendon  to  conduct  the  case  on 
certain  pre-arranged  lines.* 

According  to  Douglas,  during  the  consultation  which  took 
place  in  Clarke’s  chambers  when  Queensberry’s  amended  plea  of 
justification  was  discussed,  he  told  Clarke  that  if  he  (Clarke)  did  not 
put  him  in  the  box  they  might  as  well  throw  up  the  case  at  once. 

“Make  your  mind  at  rest.  Lord  Alfred,”  said  Qarke,  according 
to  Douglas's  version,  “I  agree  with  everything  you  say.  My  idea 
of  the  way  to  conduct  this  case  is  to  launch  out  at  the  outset  with  a 
deadly  attack  on  Lord  Queensberry  for  his  conduct  to  his  family,  of 
which  we  have  ample  proof  in  his  letters  to  you  and  to  your  grand- 
father, Mr.  Alfred  Montgomery,  supplemented  by  your  own 
evidence.” 

a Op.  dl.,  pp,  loy-iog- 

s See  Frank  Harris  and  Lord  Al&ed  Douglas,  Hew  Preface  to  "The  Life  and 
Confessions  of  Oscar  Wilde,"  (1935).  Harns  and  Doug]a»  disagreed  before  the 
publication  of  the  new  edition  of  Hants's  book  with  the  result  that  Douglas 
published  the  Preface  separately  with  tus  comments. 

The  reason  for  their  ihaagreement  Is  noteworthy.  "About  the  Preface,"  wrote 
Harris  to  Douglas  on  30th  Jidy,  1925,  "months  ago  1 sent  it  to  London  to  be 
printed.  My  printers  kept  it  some  time  and  then  returned  it  to  me  with  the 
statement  that  every  printer  in  London  thought  your  attack  on  Sir  Edward  Clarke 
too  libellous  to  print.  I couldn't  believe  It,  and  tried  my  luck  everywhere,  then 
1 sent  it  to  a most  distinguished  lawyer  ...  he  implores  me  not  to^  attack  Clarke, 
says  the  reply  would  be  crushing,  even  if  be  didn't  prose^te^  us  for  libel.  If  Clarke 
did,  he  adds,  you  haven’t  the  ghost  of  a chance  of  a verdia  in  your  favour."  A.  J.. 
Tobin  and  Elmer  Gertz,  Pran^  Hams  (Chicago,  1931),  at  pp.  390-391. 

347 


Oscar  Wilde. 


“Yes,”  said  Douglas,  “bui  will  you  promise  [aithfully  to  put  tiw 
in  the  box?” 

“I  promise  you  I will.  You  shall  go  into  the  box  immediately 
after  my  opening  speech." 

Douglas  lepeatcd  and  amplified  this  assertion  in  his  Autobio- 
graphy, first  published  in  igap.^  By  this  time  Douglas  had  become 
convinced  that,  if  he  had  testified  on  Wilde’s  behalf,  he  would  have 
won  the  case  for  him;  and  he  now  blamed  Clarke  for  his  failure 
to  call  him.  The  real  reason  why  Clarke  did  not  put  Douglas  in 
the  box  has  already  been  given  in  the  Introduction  to  this  book.' 
It  is  confirmed  by  Clarke’s  own  words. 

On  the  appearance  of  Douglas’s  autobiography  the  late  R.  H. 
Sherard  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Clarke:— 


"Calvi,  Corsica, 
pih  September,  1929. 

The  Right  Hon.  Sic  Edward  Clarke,  P.C.,  K.C., 

Pefta-housc,  4’uirics 

Dear  Sir, 

May  I first  of  all  apologize  for  venturing  to  trouble  you? 
It  is  only  my  recollection  of  the  extreme  courtesy  with  which 
you  met  a reque.st  of  mine  nearly  twenty  years  ago  that 
encourages  me  to  write  to  you. 

I am  obliged  in  self-defence  to  answer  certain  aspersions 
made  upon  me  in  his  Autobiography  by  Lord  Alfred  Douglas. 
In  this  book,  which  I trust  you  have  not  read,  there  is  a very 
foolish  comment  on  the  way  in  which  you  conducted  Oscar 
Wilde’s  case  against  Lord  Queensberry  for  criminal  libel  at 
the  Old  Bailey  in  April,  1^5.  Douglas  declared  that  you 
had  agreed  to  put  him  in  the  witness-box  immediately  after 
your  opening  speech  on  the  prosecutor’s  behalf.  He  was  to 
give  evidence  to  show  the  character  of  his  father,  the  Marquis, 
and  a full  account  of  Lord  Queensberry’s  alleged  brutalities 
to  his  family,  Sec,  He  adds  that  you  promised  to  do  so,  and 
that  you  did  not  keep  this  promise.  He  says  that  if  he  had 
been  called  and  had  been  allowed  to  destroy  his  father's 
character,  Wilde  would  certainly  have  won  his  case. 

May  I be  allowed  to  point  out  to  my  readers  the  utter 
absurdity  of  this  statement,  and  shall  I not  be  right  in  saying 
that  the  judge  would  not  have  allowed  such  evidence  to  be 


* Op.  cit.,  p.  90,  et  seq. 

^ See  flbore,  p.  46 

348 


Appendix  B. 

given  as  being  entirely  irrelevant  to  the  point  at  issue? 

Douglas’s  statements  might  be  treated  with  contempt  were 
it  not  for  the  support  that  is  being  given  to  them  by  a certain 
Frank  Harris,  who  joins  in  tlus  attack  on  your  conduct  of 
the  case,  in  his  widely  circulated  book, 

I have  the  honour  to  remain,  with  profound  respect. 

Your  obliged,  obedient  servant, 

Robert  H.  Sherard." 

To  this  letter  Sir  Edward  Clarke  replied  as  follows:— 

“Pcterhousc,  Staines, 

ifith  September,  1929. 

Dear  Sir, 

I have  not  seen  the  Autobiography  of  Lord  Alfred 
Douglas,  and  certainly  shall  not  trouble  to  read  it.  But  I am 
glad  of  the  opportunity  of  contradicting  the  statements  about 
me  which  you  quote. 

It  is,  you  say,  alleged  that  I agreed  with  Oscar  Wilde  that 
he  should  ‘give  evidence  to  show  the  character  of  his  (Lord 
Alfred’s)  father,  the  Marquess,  and  a full  account  of  Lord 
Queensberry's  alleged  brut^ities  to  his  family,  &e.’  That  I 
‘promised  to  do  this  and  did  not  keep  the  promise.’  It  is 
added  that  ‘if  he  (Lord  Alfred)  had  been  called  and  had  been 
allowed  to  destroy  his  father’s  character  Wilde  would  cer- 
tainly have  won  his  case.’  There  is  not  a fragment  of  truth 
in  any  of  these  statements.  I made  no  such  agreement  or 
promise.  The  question  of  Lord  Queensberry’s  character  was 
quite  irrelevant  to  the  case,  and  was  never  mentioned  in  my 
instructions  or  in  consultation,  and  if  an  attempt  had  been 
made  to  give  such  evidence  the  judge  would  of  course  have 
peremptorily  stopped  it.  You  ate  at  liberty  to  make  any  use 
you  please  of  this  letter. 

Yours  faithfully, 

Edward  Clarke,” 

A further  cliarge  brought  against  Clarke  by  Douglas  in  his  book 
is  that  Ae  great  counsel  ‘‘put  the  lid  on”  his  performance  at  the 
Queensberry  trial  by  failing  to  cross-examine  the  Crown  witnesses 
at  Bow  Street  Police  Court,  with  the  result  that  Wilde  and  Taylor 
were  committed  for  trial.  Douglas  goes  on  to  state  that  if  he  had 
known  as  much  about  the  law  then  as  he  did  at  the  time  of 
writing,  he  would  have  urged  Wilde  to  say  that  if  Clarke  would 
349 


Oscar  Wilde. 


not  cross-examine  the  witnesses  at  the  Police  Court  he  must  request 
him  to  retire  torn  the  case  and  let  someone  else  ("even  any  smart 
Junior")  do  it  instead.  Here  agiiin  we  fortunately  have  Sir  Edward 
Clarke’s  personal  explaniition,  and  his  words  speak  for  themselves, 

It  will  be  remcrtibered  that  Wilde  was  first  brought  up  at  Bow 
Street  on  Saturday,  6di  April,  1895,  the  day  following  his  arrest. 
Evidence  for  the  prosecution  was  given  by  the  two  brothers  Parker, 
Mrs.  Ellen  Grant,  Alfred  Wood,  Sidney  Mavor,  Antonio  Miggc, 
and  Jane  Cotter.  When  Charles  Gill  for  the  Crown  had  concluded 
his  examination-in-chief  of  the  first  of  these  witnesses,  Charles 
Parker,  Mr.  Travers  Humphreys,  who  appeared  for  Wilde, 
announced  that  he  intended  to  defend  but  that  the  charge  had 
taken  his  client  by  surprise  and  that  consequently  he  was  not  pr^ 
pared  to  cross-examine  Parker.  The  magistrate  accordingly  allowed 
the  cross-examination  of  all  the  Crown  witnesses  to  he  postponed, 
On  the  resumpiion  of  the  hesuing  on  the  nth  April,  Sir  Edward 
Clarke,  whose  offer  to  defend  Wilde  williout  fee  had  in  the  mean- 
time been  accepted  by  Wilde’s  solicitors,  came  into  Court  and  made 
the  following  statement  as  soon  as  the  magi.stratc  had  taken  his 
seat  on  the  bench, 

“I  appear  in  this  case  with  my  friend  Mr.  Travers 
Humphreys  for  the  defence  of  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde.  1 have  had 
the  oppormnity  of  reading  the  depositions  which  were  taken 
last  Saturday,  and  I am  much  obliged  for  the  permission  to 
postpone  the  cross-examination  of  those  witnesses.  But  upon 
consideration  I have  decided  not  to  ask  for  those  witnesses  tn 
be  recalled  for  cross-examination,  as  probably  no  cross- 
examination  could  affect  the  result  as  far  as  this  Court  is 
concerned,  and  so  far  as  your  action  in  the  matter  is  con- 
cerned. And  of  course  it  is  desirable  on  all  grounds  that  the 
investigation  shall  be  taken  in  as  short  a time  as  possible 
in  this  Court.  And,  saying  that  with  regard  to  the  witnesses 
who  have  been  called,  I shall  probably  take  the  same  course 
with  regard  to  other  witnesses,  with  a view  to  shorten  the 
proceedings  before  you.” 

Needless  to  say,  the  magistrate  agreed  that  the  course  proposed 
by  Clarke  was  highly  desirable.  Indeed  Clarke  could  not  with 
advantage  have  taken  any  other. 

AH  Douglas’s  criticisms  of  Clarke  and  his  representation  of  his 
dient  in  the  various  trials  are,  dierefore,  without  foundation.  It 
is  to  be  regretted  that  Douglas  should  have  persisted  in  them  until 
350 


Appendix  B. 

die  end  of  his  life  and  should  have  recurred  to  them  in  his  last 
two  books,  Without  Apology^  (1938)  and  Oscar  Wilde:  A Summing 
Up‘  (1940).  He  repeated  Stem  to  me  in  a long  conversation  which 
I had  with  him  in  1931,  when  he  declared  that  in  his  opinion  Sir 
Edward  Clarke  had  broken  his  promise  to  him  and  “entirely  let 
down  his  cHent.”  He  told  me  that  at  the  time  of  the  trials  he  and 
Wilde  were  both  such  simpletons  in  legal  matters  tliat  it  never 
occurred  to  either  of  them  that  Clarke  was  not  performing  pro- 
digies of  skill  and  courage  in  his  conduct  of  the  case.  "I  have  even 
recollections,”  he  added,  “of  writing  Sir  Edward  a long  and 
pathetic  letter  of  thanks  for  what  he  had  done,  after  poor  Oscar's 
conviction.  It  does  not  bear  thinking  of.” 

But,  although  he  no  longer  remembered  Sir  Edward  Clarke 
“with  the  profoundest  gratitude  and  admiration”  which  he  had 
expressed  after  the  trials  in  1895,  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  did  make 
one  admission  about  him  to  me  wliich  it  is  well  to  remember : “I 
don’t  for  a moment  suggest  that  he  acted  otherwise  than  in  what 
he  considered  to  be  the  best  interests  of  his  client." 

' Op.  fit.,  pp.  aog-au. 

* Op  as.,  pp.  114-135. 


351 


Oscar  Wilde. 


APPENDIX  C. 

BANKRUPTCY  PROCEEDINGS. 

In  iiE  Wilds. 

The  petition  in  Wilde’s  bankruptcy  was  presented  by 
Lord  Queensberry  on  3ist  June,  and  a receiving  order  was 
made  on  asth  July,  1895.  Adjudication  and  public  examina- 
tion of  the  debtor  followed  in  due  course.  The  OlEcial 
Receiver  was  appointed  trustee.' 


Meeting  oC  Creditors. 

The  first  meeting  oC  creditors  under  a receiving  order  made 
against  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flaherde  Wills  Wilde,  described  as  late  of 
16  Tite  Street,  Chelsea,  and  now  of  Her  Majesty’s  Prison, 
Wandsworth,  took  place  on  adlh  August,  1895,  before  the  Official 
Receiver,  Mr,  A,  H.  Wildy.  The  petitioning  creditor  was  the 
Marquess  of  Queensberry,  who  claimed  ,£677  in  respect  of  law 
costs  in  connexion  with  legal  proceedings  instituted  by  the  debtor. 


The  Official  Reoeivef — ^The  accounts  show  unsecured  liabili- 
ties of  and  partly  secured  debts  of  ,£915,  a deficiency  of 

X3591  being  disclosed.  The  assets,  of  which  the  value  is  not  stated, 
comprise  royalties  on  literary  works  and  plays.  The  debtor  states 
“ jt  his  income  has  averaged  not  less  than  ,£2000  per  annum  derived 
royalties.  He  is  at  present  interested  in  four  dramatic  works, 
jly  "Lady  Windermere’s  Fan,”  “A  Woman  of  No  Import- 
Weal  Husband,”  and  "The  Importance  of  Being 
also  interest^  in  the  novel  TAe  Picture  of  Dorhn 
of  poems  entitled  The  Sphinx.  The  debtor 


-|nyc  been  obtained  from  the  OflScial  Court  of  Bankiuptej 
reports  <A  baskeuptey  proceedings  published  in  The  Times 
Irreverences  to  tlK  banluuptcy  b De  Profundis  bb  well  as  in 
prison  and  post-pruon  cocreipondence  with  his  literary  executen 
m After  Heading  and  After  Bemevel  (roar)  and  in  the 
Letters  (1938), 


/ 


J 


A “t-j 

^ /Vnr  /v^  ^ 

‘’U 


^1-*- 


0 


*/r^j  U'^s^  AC4.^,r>f^  d»-^ 

^ C-^<j^  ^ -4x'^-Y^  *—2  j/-^ 

H A t-nS^^^C  C 

/]  / 

/ ,7*^  ■ — 7 /--'^^  'V  ci^f-t 

‘‘i^'Lc-^ — . j^C^ 

S)  y^ 

e<(4Kl-C<ir<J!/v  . 'fL*^  y^ 

«-»-«-^  c*  ‘^'  ^ f-  *.  e^*<—A^c^~ 


< — ‘;^ 


letter  &om  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  to  Sir  Edward  Oarke, 
May  26tii« 


K 


[See  over 


Oscar  Wilde. 


APPENDIX  c. 

BANKRUPTCY  PROCEEDINGS. 

In  m Wildb. 

The  petidon  in  Wilde’s  bankruptcy  was  presented  by 
Lord  Queensberry  on  21st  June,  and  a receiving  order  was 
made  on  25th  July,  1895.  Adjudicadon  and  public  examina- 
tion o£  the  debtor  followed  in  due  course.  The  Official 
Receiver  was  appointed  trustee.* 


Meeting  of  Creditors. 

The  first  meeting  o£  creditors  under  a receiving  order  made 
against  Oscar  Fingal  O’Flahctde  Wills  Wilde,  described  as  late  oI 
16  Tite  Street,  Chelsea,  and  now  o£  Her  Majesty’s  Prison, 
Wandsworth,  took  place  on  26th  August,  1895,  before  the  Official 
Receiver,  Mr.  A.  H.  Wildy,  The  petitioning  creditor  was  the 
Marquess  of  Queensherry,  who  claimed  X®77  respect  of  law 
costs  in  connexion  with  legal  proceedings  instituted  by  the  debtor. 

The  OpFiciAL  Recbiver — The  accounts  show  unsecured  liabili- 
des  of  ,^2676  and  partly  secured  debts  of  ,^915,  a deficiency  of 
,£3591  being  disclosed.  'The  assets,  of  which  the  value  is  not  stated, 
comprise  royalties  on  literary  works  and  plays.  The  debtor  states 
that  his  income  has  averaged  not  less  than  ,£2000  per  annum  derived 
from  royalties.  He  is  at  present  interested  in  four  dramatic  works, 
namely  "Lady  Windermere's  Fan,”  “A  Woman  of  No  Import- 
ance,” "An  Ideal  Husband,”  and  “The  Importance  of  Being 
Earnest.”  He  is  also  interested  in  the  novel  The  Picture  of  Dorian 
Gray  and  a book  of  poems  entitled  The  Sphinx.  The  debtor 


r These  pirticuUn  h>ve  been  obtained  tram  the  Official  Court  of  Banktuplny 
files  and  also  from  the  reports  of  bankruptcy  proceedings  published  in  Tfitf  T««« 
There  arc  nuroerous  references  to  the  bankruptcy  in  Oe  Pnfmiis  as  well  as  in 
Wilde's  extensive  prison  and  post-prison  cnnespondcnce  with  his  literary  eiwotot 
Kobert  Ross,  partly  published  in  After  Seadtng  and  After  Bemeeat  (tpai)  and  in  the 
Pfdnfs  Safe  Ceuhgve  of  Wilde  hetters  (1928). 

353 


/ 

<-»-^  ^Ti. *«.  ‘■'^  il-i^  ^/*^^ 

<>~»  ^ *vi— ' ^ .,<£lie^jC 

^■•"*'  ^-'’^  /v^  ^ 

^ jL-y^^Cc  jjl 

X:.  ‘^JjP 

*K^  '*■*— i 

-a<!'^7kl^’«jr«sJ^  . 'fL*^  y^ 

^'■>^_^  (r  ^ ^ ^ <-  i^*^~iiL~C  (~ 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^t*«. 

^ ^ -wiZ,  *i<  . ^ ^ 


^ / 


Letter  from  Lord  Alfred  Dougka  to  Sir  Edward  Oarkei 
May  26ch»  1S9; 


L^-t,  &cl 

Lb^  f-  jCC,<^ 

f'  V"V 

^<^t*-4.  AlMb£_  ^ 

1^  W-<._ 


See  ovci] 


Appendix  C. 

further  Suites  that  he  had  lo  per  cent,  of  the  gross  weekly  receipts 
from  the  play  “The  Importance  of  Being  Earnest”  up  to  ^looo, 
and  15  per  cent,  on  anything  over  that  amount.  As  to  "A  Woman 
of  No  Importance"  and  “An  Ideal  Husband”  the  terms  were  as 
follows ; if  the  receipts  were  over  ;f6oo  and  under  j£8oo  per  week 
he  was  to  receive  5 per  cent.;  over  ;£8oo  and  under  ^1000  per 
cent.,  and  on  anything  over  ;Ciooo  w per  cent.  Those  royalties 
were  all  paid  weekly,  and,  to  the  best  of  the  debtor’s  belief  there 
was  nothing  outstaning  in  respect  of  them  at  the  date  of  his 
arrest.  He  attributes  his  insolvency  lo  the  failure  of  the  legal 
proceedings  instituted  by  him  against  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry, 
and  to  his  arrest  and  conviction  in  the  recent  trial  of  Regina  v. 
Wilde. 

[Mr.  Thavess  Humphreys,  who  attended  on  behalf  of  the 
debtor,  stated  that,  although  every  effort  had  been  made,  the  debtor 
was  not  at  present  in  a position  to  submit  an  offer  to  the  aeditors.] 

The  Ofeioial  Receiver — [Having  dealt  with  the  proofs,  includ- 
ing in  addition  to  that  of  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry  one  showing 
,^233  in  respect  of  tobacco,  wines  and  jewelry  supplied  to  the  debtor, 
he  said] : The  debtor  in  consequence  of  the  present  position  is  not 
in  attendance,  it  not  being  considered  necessary  to  obtain  an  order 
to  bring  him  up,  The  summary  and  observations  recently  issued 
suificiendy  indicate  the  position  in  the  matter,  and  it  appears  that 
the  debtor  has  been  insolvent  for  some  time  past.  There  being  no 
proposal  before  the  meeting,  the  only  course  will  be  to  pass  a resolu- 
tion that  the  debtor  be  adjudged  bankrupt  and  to  elect  a trustee. 

The  resolution  for  bankruptcy  having  been  agreed  to,  a proposal 
for  the  appointment  of  a trustee  was  made,  but  ne^tived  by  the 
vote  of  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  who  was  desirous  that  the 
matter  should  remain  in  the  hands  of  the  Official  Receiver. 

The  public  examination  of  the  debtor  was  fixed  for  24th 
September  next  at  ii  o’clock. 

Public  Examination. 

Before  Mr.  Registrar  Giffard. 

24th  September,  1895. 

Mr.  C.  A.  Pope  attended  as  Assistant  Official  Receiver,  and  Mr. 
J.  P.  Grain  for  the  debtor, 
z 


353 


Oscar  Wilde. 


The  Debtor  was  broughl  up  in  the  custody  o£  two  warders 
from  Wandsworth  Prison,  but  was  not  brought  into  Court. 

Mr.  J.  P.  Grain — I am  instructed  to  apply  for  an  adjournment. 
The  debtor’s  accounts  show  liabilities  of  about  ,£3500  and  sub- 
stantially, so  far  as  could  be  ascertained  at  the  present  time,  there 
are  no  assets,  although  there  arc  certam  of  the  royalties  on  Wi 
plays  which  may  at  some  future  date  prove  to  be  of  value.  Several 
of  the  debtor’s  friends,  however,  have  already  subscribed  sums 
amounting  to  between  £1000  and  ;£i500,  and  I have  every  reason 
to  believe  that  when  many  other  of  his  friends  return  from  their 
vacation  they  will  also  render  such  financial  assistance  as  will  be 
sufficient  to  pay  all  the  creditors  20s.  in  the  pound,  with  the 
exception  of  a liability  of  j£i557  due  to  the  trustees  of  his  marriage 
settlement.  It  is  intended  that  some  arrangement  shall  be  made 
whereby  that  claim  will  be  satisfied  by  the  execution  of  a deed 
transferring  to  the  trustees  of  tlie  marriage  settlement  all  the 
debtor's  interest  in  his  phiys  and  literary  works.  By  this  means 
all  the  creditors  will  be  paid  in  fuU,  and  an  application  will  then 
be  made  to  rescind  the  receiving  order,  Under  these  cireumstances 
I ask  that  the  sitting  may  Ik  adjourned  for  so  long  a time  as  the 
Court  may  think  fit. 

The  Assistant  Oeficiai.  RECEivna — I shall  not  oppose  the 
application  if  there  is  any  prospect  of  the  creditors  being  paid  in 
full. 

Mr.  Registrar  Gifpard,  on  no  creditor  appearing  to  oppose, 
adjourned  the  examination  to  12th  November  at  11.30  o'clock. 


Public  Examination— continued. 

Before  Mr.  Registrar  Linki-ater. 

i2th  November,  1895. 

Mr,  A.  H.  WiiDY  appeared  as  Official  Receiver,  and  Mr.  J.  P. 
Grain  represented  the  debtor. 

The  Debtor,  examined  by  Mr.  Wildy — I am  40  years  of  age. 
For  about  ten  or  eleven  years  previously  to  March  last  I resided  at 
16  Tite  Street,  Chelsea.  I kept  no  books  of  accounts.  I estimate 
354 


Appendix  C, 


that  my  expenditure  during  the  two  or  three  years  preceding  the 
date  o£  the  receiving  order  was  at  the  rate  of  about  ;£2900  a year. 
In  July,  1893,  my  Ikbilities  exceeded  my  assets  by  about  ,£1450.  1 
remember  being  examined  at  the  instance  of  the  Official  Receiver  on 
agth  July  last,  and  the  information  which  I then  gave  in  relation 
to  my  plays  and  royalties  due  thereon  is  substantially  correct.  It 
was  usual  for  me  to  receive  payment  in  advance  for  royalties,  with 
the  result  that  certain  theatrical  managers  appear  in  my  account  as 
creditors,  their  security  consisting  of  acting  rights  in  respect  of  my 
plays.  It  was  about  ffie  time  of  my  conviction  that  I first  became 
aware  that  I did  not  possess  sufficient  property  to  enable  me  to 
pay  all  my  debts  in  full.  I adhere  to  the  statements  which  I have 
already  made  as  to  the  causes  of  my  insolvency. 

On  the  occasion  of  my  marriage  in  May,  1884,  a settlement  was 
executed  comprising  property  belonging  to  my  wife,  and  an 
income  derived  therefrom  has  amounted  to  about  ,£800  per  year.  I 
have  a Life  interest  in  the  property  comprised  in  the  deed  subject 
to  my  surviving  my  wife.  She  is  about  33  years  of  age.  The 
trustees  of  the  settlement  have  made  me  an  advance  of  ,£1000  at 
5 per  cent,  interest.  I have  also  an  interest  in  a small  property 
under  my  father’s  will.  It  is  situate  in  Ireland,  and  produced 
between  ;£roo  and  ,£150  a year.  The  household  furniture  and 
effects  at  my  residence  in  Tite  Street  were  sold  in  April  last  by  the 
Sheriff  under  an  execution.  I have  never  previously  been  bankrupt, 
nor  effected  an  arrangement  with  my  creditors. 

Mr.  Gsain  did  not  ask  the  debtor  any  questions. 

In  the  absence  of  opposition  by  any  creditor,  the  examination 
was  concluded. 

On  yth  May,  1897,  a first  interim  dividend  of  is.  sd.  in  the  ,£ 
was  dedared,  and  this  was  followed  on  23rd  July,  1897,  by  a suppl^ 
mental  dividend  of  2^d.  The  Offidal  Reedver  ceased  to  act  as 
trustee  on  13th  December,  1897,  and  other  trustees  were  appointed. 
No  further  dividends  were  declared  during  Wilde’s  lifetime,  since 
he  never  applied  to  the  Court  for  his  discharge,  and  he  died  a 
bankrupt. 

Meanwhile  Robert  Ross  had  been  appointed  the  debtor’s  literary 
executor.  Early  in  1900,  whilst  Wilde  was  still  alive,  Queensberry 
died  and  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  came  in  for  a share  of  his  father’s 
fortune  amounting  to  about  ,£25,000.  Ross  therefore  asked  him  to 
pay  off  Wilde’s  debts  and  thereby  acquire  the  copyrights  in  ffis 
355 


Oscar  Wilde. 


The  Debtor  was  brought  up  in  the  custody  of  two  warden 
from  Wandsworth  Prison,  but  was  not  brought  into  Court, 

Mr.  J.  P.  Grain — I am  instructed  to  apply  for  an  adjournment. 
The  debtor's  accounts  show  liabilities  of  about  ^£3500  and  suh- 
standally,  so  far  as  could  be  ascertained  at  the  present  time,  there 
are  no  assets,  although  there  are  certain  of  the  royalties  on  his 
plays  which  may  at  some  future  date  prove  to  be  of  value.  Several 
of  the  debtor’s  friends,  however,  have  already  subscribed  sums 
amounting  to  between  ;Ciooo  and  ,£1500,  and  I have  every  reason 
to  believe  that  when  many  other  of  his  friends  return  from  their 
vacation  they  will  also  render  such  financial  assistance  as  will  be 
sufficient  to  pay  all  the  creditors  20s.  in  the  pound,  with  the 
exception  of  a liability  of  ,^1557  due  to  the  trustees  of  his  marriage 
settlement.  It  is  intended  that  some  arrangement  shall  be  made 
whereby  that  claim  will  be  sadsfied  by  the  execution  of  a deed 
transferring  to  the  trustees  of  the  marriage  setdement  all  die 
debtor’s  interest  in  his  plays  and  literary  works.  By  this  means 
all  the  creditors  will  be  paid  in  full,  ami  an  application  will  then 
be  made  to  rescind  the  receiving  order.  Under  these  circumstances 
I ask  that  the  sitdng  may  be  adjourned  for  so  long  a time  as  the 
Court  may  think  Bt. 

The  Assistant  Oti'iciai.  Receiver — I shall  not  oppose  the 
application  if  there  is  any  prospect  of  the  creditors  being  paid  in 
full. 

Mr.  Registrar  Gipfard,  on  no  creditor  appearing  to  oppose, 
adjourned  the  examination  to  12th  November  at  11.30  o’clock. 


Public  Examination— continued. 

' Before  Mr.  Registrar  Linklater. 

I2th  November,  1895. 

Mr.  A.  H.  WiLDY  appeared  as  Official  Receiver,  and  Mr.  J.  P. 
Grain  represented  the  debtor. 

The  Debtor,  examined  by  Mr.  Wimy — I am  40  years  of  age. 
For  about  ten  or  eleven  years  previously  to  March  last  I resieW  at 
16  The  Street,  Chelsea.  I kept  no  books  of  accounts.  I estimate 
354 


Appendix  C. 


that  my  expenditure  during  the  two  or  three  years  preceding  the 
date  o£  the  receiving  order  was  at  the  rate  of  about  >£2900  a year. 
In  July,  1893,  my  liabilities  exceeded  my  assets  by  about  ,£1450.  I 
remember  being  examined  at  the  instance  of  the  Official  Receiver  on 
29th  July  last,  and  the  information  which  I then  gave  in  relation 
to  my  plays  and  royalties  due  thereon  is  substantially  correct.  It 
was  usual  for  me  to  receive  payment  in  advance  for  royalties,  with 
the  result  that  certain  theatrical  managers  appear  in  my  account  as 
creditors,  their  security  consisting  of  acting  rights  in  respect  of  my 
plays.  It  was  about  ffie  time  of  my  conviction  that  I first  became 
aware  that  I did  not  possess  sufiicient  property  to  enable  me  to 
pay  all  my  debts  in  full.  I adhere  to  the  statements  which  I have 
already  made  as  to  the  causes  of  my  insolvency. 

On  the  occasion  of  my  marriage  in  May,  1884,  a settlement  was 
executed  comprising  property  belonging  to  my  wife,  and  an 
income  derived  therefrom  has  amounted  to  about  £800  per  year.  I 
have  a life  interest  in  the  property  comprised  in  the  deed  subject 
to  my  surviving  my  wife.  She  is  about  35  years  of  age.  The 
trustees  of  the  settlement  have  made  me  an  advance  of  ,£1000  at 
5 per  cent,  interest.  I have  also  an  interest  in  a small  property 
under  my  father’s  will.  It  is  situate  in  Ireland,  and  produceo 
between  ;£ioo  and  ,£150  a year.  The  household  furniture  and 
effects  at  my  residence  in  Tile  Street  were  sold  in  April  last  by  the 
Sheriff  under  an  execution.  I have  never  previously  been  bankrupt, 
nor  effected  an  arrangement  with  my  creditors. 

Mr.  GaAiN  did  not  ask  the  ddrtor  any  questions. 

In  the  absence  of  opposition  by  any  creditor,  the  examination 
was  concluded. 

On  7th  May,  1897,  a first  interim  dividend  of  is.  5d.  in  the  ,£ 
was  declared,  and  this  was  followed  on  23rd  July,  1897,  by  a supple- 
mental dividend  of  2^d.  The  Official  Receiver  ceased  to  act  as 
trustee  on  13th  December,  1897,  and  other  trustees  were  appointed. 
No  further  dividends  were  declared  during  Wilde’s  lifetime,  since 
he  never  applied  to  the  Court  for  his  discharge,  and  he  died  a 
bankrupt. 

Meanwhile  Robert  Ross  had  been  appointed  the  debtor’s  literary 
executor.  Early  in  1900,  whilst  Wilde  was  still  alive,  Queensberry 
died  and  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  came  in  for  a share  of  his  father’s 
fortone  amounting  to  about  ,£25,000.  Ross  therefore  asked  him  to 
pay  off  Wilde’s  debts  and  thereby  acquire  the  copyrights  in  his 
355 


Oscar  Wilde. 


writings,  which  Ross  unJertook  to  administer  on  his  behalf  until 
he  was  repaid.  To  his  subsequent  lasihig  regret  Douglas  declined 
to  do  tlus.®  The  estate,  which  Douglas  might  thus  have  rescued 
from  banbuptcy,  did  not  become  solvent  until  1906,  when  all  the 
creditors  were  paid  20s.  in  the  {,  together  with  4 per  cent,  interest 
on  the  amount  of  their  debts.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  in  this 
final  setdement  Douglas  received  with  interest  approximately  a 
quarter  of  the  amount  of  his  father’s  debt,  the  legal  costs  of  the  libel 
prosecution  which  of  course  ranked  as  an  asset  in  the  Queensberry 
estate.’ 

The  remaining  dividends  were  declared  as  follows:  13s.  4d. 
(3rd  July,  1903),  4s.  o'/d.  (23rd  July,  1904),  is.  with  4 per  cent, 
interest  (28th  May,  1906)— thus  amounting  in  all  to  a payment  to 
Wilde’s  creditors  of  20s.  in  the  with  interest. 


* See  Hesketh  Penrson,  Modern  Men  and  Mummers  (igsi),  at  p.  x68. 

*Scc  The  Ltirury  oj  WUham  Andreevs  CUn'k^  /ww,,  IVtlde  and  Wildeaua^ 
Vbl.  IT«  (1921)  at  p.  70. 


Appendix  D. 


APPENDIX  D. 

LORD  ALFRED  DOUGLAS  AND  THE  AFTERMATH  OF 
THE  WILDE  TRIALS. 

While  in  France,  where  he  had  been  obliged  to  retire  on  the 
eve  of  Wilde’s  prosecution,  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  received  a copy 
of  The  Review  of  Reviews  for  June,  1895.  In  this  issue  die  editor, 
Mr.  W.  T,  Stead,  had  commented  in  characteristic  style  on  the  trials 
and  their  tragic  outcome.  Stead’s  remarks  in  turn  provoked 
Douglas  to  address  a letter  to  the  editor  which  set  out  his  own  views 
on  the  case,  and  which  must  rank  as  one  of  the  most  amazing 
literary  outbursts  on  any  subject.  This  letter,  which  for  obvious 
reasons  Stead  dared  not  publish,  has  remained  concealed  from  the 
light  of  day  until  the  present. 

W.  T.  Stead,  destined  evenmally  to  lose  his  life  in  the  “Titanic” 
disaster,  was  one  of  the  most  courageous  and  out-spoken  Radical 
journalists  of  the  period,  as  well  as  a tireless  antagonist  of  social 
abuses  with  a strong  Nonconformist  conscience.  Strangely  enough, 
it  was  Stead  more  than  anyone  else  who  was  responsible  for  the 
passing  of  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act  in  1885,  although  not 
for  the  specific  section  of  it  under  which  Wilde  was  charged.  This 
statute  was  entitled  "An  Aa  to  make  further  provision  for  the 
Protection  of  Women  and  Girls,  the  suppression  of  brothels  and 
other  purposes,”  and  it  was  the  culminating  point  in  the  campaign 
against  prostitution  and  white  slavery  in  England  which  Stead  had 
been  carrying  on  for  some  time  in  the  pages  of  the  Pall  MM 
Gazette.  When  the  Bill  was  being  debated  in  the  committee  stage 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  Henry  Labouchere,  the  well-known 
Radical  M.F.  and  editor  of  Truth,  moved  an  amendment  designed 
to  cover  indecent  practices  between  males  or  "outrages  on  decency” 
whether  committed  in  public  or  in  private,  although  this  was  never 
within  the  original  scope  and  purpose  of  the  Bill.  After  some 
discussion,  and  the  inaease  of  the  maximum  punishment  of  one 
year’s  imprisonment  vrith  hard  labour,  as  proposed  by  Labouchere, 
to  two  years,  the  amendment  was  carried  and  subsequendy  incor- 
porated as  Section  ii  of  the  Act.* 

r See  HaQaard,  Parliamentary  Debates  (3rd  Series)  CCC.,  at  p.  1398.  TIm 
(46  St  49  Viet.  c.  69)  came  into  fime  on  ist  January,  1886.  See  also  lematkB  by  Sit 
Ttavea  Humphreys  above,  pp.  j-y. 


357 


Oscav  Wilde. 


Unfortunately  for  himself,  Stead’s  zeal  in  the  social  purity 
campaign  outran  his  discretion.  While  the  Criminal  Law  Anteni 
ment  Bill  was  still  before  Parlhiment,  he  published  a series  of 
artictles  under  die  tide  of  “The  Maiden  Tribute  of  Modem 
Babylon”  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  which  it  is  no  exaggeration  to 
say  produced  a world-wide  sensation.  Anxious  to  show  how 
reladvely  simple  a matter  it  was  for  anyone  with  £,20  in  his  podet 
to  acquire  a young  gjrl  for  die  purposes  of  prostitution  or  white 
slavery.  Stead  himself  entered  into  an  arrangement  of  this  kind 
with  a mother  of  a young  girl,  and  although  the  girl  was  imme- 
diately handed  over  to  the  tender  care  of  the  Salvation  Army  and 
the  police  were  informed,  Stead  was  charged  with  abducting  the 
girl,  and  on  his  conviction  which  followed  he  was  sent  to  prison 
for  three  months.® 

Stead  continued  Ids  social  work  after  his  release,  and  having 
severed  his  connexion  with  the  Pdl  Mall  Gazette  he  proceeded  to 
found  a new  journal  which  he  called  The  Review  of  Reviews.  It 
was  in  the  editorial  notes  of  diis  periodical,  entitled  “The  Progress 
of  the  World,”  that  in  due  course  he  came  to  comment  on  the 
Wilde  case. 


“The  Conviction  or  OsoAit  WiimE.” 

“.  . . The  trial  of  Oscar  Wilde  and  Taylor  at  the  Old 
Bailey,  resulting  in  their  conviction  and  the  infliction  of  what 
will  probably  be  a capital  sentence— for  two  years’  hard  labour 
in  solitary  confinement  always  breaks  up  the  constitution  even 
of  tough  and  stalwart  men— has  forced  upon  the  attention  of 
the  public  the  existence  of  a vice  of  which  the  most  of  us 
happily  know  nothing.  The  heinousness  of  the  crime  of  Oscar 
Wilde  and  his  associates  does  not  lie,  as  is  usually  supposed, 
in  its  being  unnatural.  It  would  be  unnatural  for  seventy-nine 
out  of  eighty  persons.  It  is  natural  for  the  abnormal  person 
who  is  in  a minority  of  one.  If  the  promptings  of  our  animal 
nature  are  to  be  the  only  guide,  the  punishment  of  Oscar 
Wilde  would  savour  of  persecution,  and  he  might  fairly  claim 
our  sympathy  as  the  champion  of  individualism  against  the 
tyranny  of  an  intolerant  majority.  But  we  are  not  merely 
animal.  We  are  human  beings  living  together  in  society, 
whose  aim  is  to  render  social  intercourse  as  free  and  as  happy 
as  possible.  At  present,  fortunately,  people  of  the  same  sex 
can  travel  togeiher,  and  live  together  in  close  intimacy, 

> Frederic  Whjte,  lije  ef  W.  T.  Stead,  toI.  i (1925),  p.  185. 

358 


Appendix  D. 


without  any  one  even  dreaming  of  any  scandal.  Between 
persons  of  the  same  sex  suspicion  of  impropriety  or  the 
thought  of  indecency  has  been  so  effectually  banished  that 
the  mere  suggestion  of  the  possibility  will  seem  to  most  an 
incredible  absurdity.  Between  individuals  of  opposite  sexes 
no  such  free  unfettered  communion  of  life  is  possible.  That, 
however,  is  the  goal  towards  which  we  ought  to  progress; 
and  it  would  be  a fatal  blunder  at  the  very  moment  when 
we  are  endeavouring  to  rid  friendship  between  man  and 
woman  of  the  blighting  shadow  of  possible  wrong-doing,  were 
we  to  acquiesce  in  the  re-establishment  of  that  upas  shade  over 
the  relations  between  man  and  man  and  man  and  woman. 

The  Sacrosanct  Male.  At  the  same  time  it  is  impossible 
to  deny  that  the  trial  and  the  sentence  bring  into  very  clear 
relief  the  ridiculous  disparity  there  is  between  the  puni^ment 
meted  out  to  those  who  corrupt  girls  and  those  who  corrupt 
boys.  If  Oscar  Wilde,  instead  of  indulging  in  dirty  tricks 
of  indecent  familiarity  with  boys  and  men,  had  ruined  the 
lives  of  half  a dozen  innocent  simpletons  of  girls,  or  had 
broken  up  the  home  of  his  friend  by  corrupting  his  friend’s 
wife,  no  one  could  have  laid  a finger  upon  him.  The  male  is 
sacrosanct:  the  female  is  fair  game.  To  have  burdened 
society  with  a dozen  bastards,  to  have  destroyed  a happy  home 
by  his  lawless  lust — of  these  things  the  criminal  law  takes  no 
account.  But  let  him  act  indecently  to  a young  rascal  who 
is  very  well  able  to  take  care  of  himself,  and  who  can  by  no 
possibility  bring  a child  into  the  world  as  the  result  of  his 
corruption,  then  judges  can  hardly  contain  themselves  from 
indignation  when  inSicting  the  maximum  sentence  the  law 
allows.  Another  contrast,  almost  as  remarkable  as  that  which 
sends  Oscar  Wilde  to  hard  labour  and  places  Sir  Charles 
Dilke  in  the  House  of  Commons,  is  that  between  the  universal 
execration  heaped  upon  Oscar  Wilde  and  the  tacit  universal 
acquiescence  of  the  very  same  public  in  the  same  kind  of  vice 
in  our  public  schools.  If  all  persons  guilty  of  Oscar  Wilde's 
offences  were  to  be  clapped  into  gaol,  there  would  be  a very 
surprising  exodus  from  Eton  and  Harrow,  Rugby  and  Win- 
chester, to  Pcntonville  and  Holloway.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that 
our  headmasters  will  pluck  up  a little  courage  from  the  result 
of  the  Wilde  trial,  and  endeavour  to  rid  our  Protestant  schools 
of  a foul  and  unnatural  vice  which  is  not  found  in  Catholic 
establishments,  at  all  events  in  this  country.  But  meanwhile 
public  school  boys  are  allowed  to  indulge  with  impunity  in 
359 


Oscar  Wilde. 


practices  which,  when  they  leave  school,  would  consign  them 
to  hard  labour." 

When  he  read  these  comments  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  wrote  the 
following  letter  to  the  editor.  It  Is  dear  from  its  contents  that  this 
document  was  composed,  so  to  speak,  at  fever  heat:— 

“Hotel  De  La  Postc, 

Rouen,  aSth  June,  1895. 

Sir, 

I have  just  read  your  comments  on  the  Oscar  Wilde  case 
in  the  Review  of  Reviews.  I believe  you  to  be  a man  with  a 
consdence  and  one  who,  if  he  thought  a terrible  wrong  had 
been  done,  would  not  sit  with  his  hands  folded  and  do 
nothing,  ^ow,  sir,  you  admit  that  the  common  cant  about 
‘unnatural’  offences  is  not  worth  anything,  you  have  sufficient 
philosophy  to  understand  and  sufficient  boldness  to  say  that 
to  call  a thing  unattural  is  not  only  not  necessarily  to  con- 
demn it  but  is  even  to  a certain  extent  to  commend  it.  Every- 
thing that  diverges  from  the  normal  may  to  a certain  extent  be 
called  unnatural,  genius  and  beauty  among  them.  But  while 
you  admit  broadly  all  this,  you  uphold  the  horrible  and 
barbarous  law  which  condemns  a man  who  is  guilty  of  these 
so  called  ‘offences'  to  a sentence  which  you  calmly  describe 
as  'probably  capital,'  and  you  give  surely  the  flimsiest  and 
feeblest  reason  for  this.  Your  argument  apparently  is  that  if 
these  laws  did  not  exist  a taint  or  suspicion  might  be  thrown 
on  friendships  between  people  of  the  same  sex  wliich  at 
present  does  not  exist.  Now,  sir,  you  are  probably  aware  that 
such  laws  as  ours  do  not  exist  in  France,  and  that  these 
‘offences’  are  there  ignored  by  the  law  just  as  fornication  is 
ignored  in  England,  and  yet  you  will  hardly  venture  to  ay 
that  this  taint  or  suspicion  exists  in  connexion  with  friendships 
between  people  of  the  same  sex  in  France.  Why  then  do  you 
anddpace  that  a similar  absence  of  laws  in  England  would 
produce  the  result  you  dread?  My  opinion  is  that  no  such 
taint  would  attach  to  friendships  between  those  of  the  same 
sex  unless  the  suspicion  was  justified  by  facts.  Thus  in 
England  there  are  no  laws  against  ‘Lesbianism’  or  intercourse 
of  an  erotic  character  between  women,  and  yet  there  are 
several  women  iu  London  whose  friendship  with  other  women 
does  cai^  a taint  and  a suspicion,  simply  because  these  women 
are  obviously  ’sapphic’  in  their  loves.  On  the  other  hand  a 
360 


Appendix  D. 


great  friendship  may  exist  between  two  ordinary  women  and 
nobody  would  think  of  imputing  to  them  ‘improper’  motives, 

I hope  you  follow  my  argument  and  observe  the  analogy. 

Perhaps  you  are  not  aware  that  ‘Lesbianism’  exists  to  any 
extent  in  London,  but  I can  assure  you  that  it  does,  and  though 
of  course  I cannot  mention  names,  I could  point  out  to  you 
half  a dozen  women  in  society  or  among  actresses  who  would  be 
considered  as  ‘dangerous’  to  young  girls  as  Oscar  Wilde  will 
I suppose  henceforth  be  considered  to  boys.  Why  on  earth 
in  the  name  of  liberty  and  common  sense  a man  cannot  be 
allowed  to  love  a boy,  rather  than  a woman  when  his  nature 
and  his  instinct  tell  him  to  do  so,  and  when  he  has  before 
him  the  example  of  such  a number  of  noble  and  gifted  men 
who  have  had  similar  tastes  (such  as  Shakespeare,  Marlowe, 
Michael  Angelo,  Frederick  the  Great,  and  a host  of  others), 
is  another  question  and  one  to  which  I should  like  to  hear  a 
satisfactory  answer.  Certain  it  is  that  persecution  will  no 
more  kill  this  instinct  m a man  who  has  it,  than  it  killed  the 
faith  of  the  Christian  martyrs.  I am  not  pleading  for  prostitu- 
tion, but  I think  if  a man  who  affects  female  prostitutes  is 
unmolested  it  is  dsgraceful  that  a man  who  prefers  male 
prostitutes  should  be  thus  barbarously  punished.  The  only 
difference  is  that  the  man  who  brings  bastards  into  the  world, 
who  seduces  girls  or  commits  adultery  does  an  immense 
amount  of  harm,  as  you  have  yourself  pointed  out,  whereas 
the  predetast  does  absolutely  no  harm  to  anyone. 

While  on  the  point,  sir,  may  I ask  you  if  it  ever  occurred  to 
you  to  consider  Ae  rdative  deserts  of  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  and 
the  man  who  ruined  him,  my  father,  Lord  Queensberry?  Mr. 
Oscar  Wilde  seduced  no  one,  he  did  no  one  any  harm,  he  was 
a kind,  generous  and  astoundingly  gifted  man,  utterly  incap- 
able of  meanness  or  cruelty.  Lord  Queensberry  was  divorced 
from  my  mother  after,  for  twelve  years,  she  had  silently 
endured  the  most  horrible  sufiering  at  his  hands. 

He  broke  her  heart,  ruined  her  health  and  took  away  all 
joy  from  her  life,  and  after  his  divorce  till  the  present  day 
he  has  not  ceased  to  persecute  her  with  every  fiendish 
ingenuity  of  cruelty  and  meanness  that  a man  could  devise. 
Hardly  a week  passes  without  her  receiving  some  letter  from 
him  containing  some  horrible  insult,  he  has  been  to  beat  on 
the  door  of  her  house  when  she  was  nearly  dsring  upstairs, 
and  he  has  taken  away  from  her  every  penny  of  money  that 
as  an  honourable  man  he  should  have  given  her,  and  left  her 
361 


Oscar  Wilde. 


only  ilua  'vvhicli  he  is  forced  to  give  by  the  Scotch  liiw  which 
is  so  hard  on  a woman  who  divorces  her  husband.  In  the 
meanwhile  he  flaunts  about  with  prostitutes  and  kept  women 
and  spends  on  them  the  money  which  he  should  give  to  his 
children,  for  he  has  cut  off  all  money  supplies  from  my 
brother,  myself  and  my  sister. 

Last  year  he  induced  a girl  of  seventeen  to  marry  him  in  a 
registry  office  against  the  wisli  of  her  people. 

On  the  jollowing  day  he  deserted  her,  and  has  since  been 
divorced  for  a second  time.  Not  content  with  practising 
fornication  and  adultery,  he  has  written  pamphlets  and  given 
lectures  advocating  what  he  calls  a 'sort  of  polygamy’  which 
is  neither  more  nor  less  than  free  love.  This  is  the  man  who 
has  been  made  into  a hero  by  the  English  people  and  the 
press,  who  is  cheered  in  the  streets  by  the  mob,  and  who  has 
crowned  his  career  by  dishonouring  and  driving  out  of 
England  his  son  who  now  writes  to  you. 

I am,  sir,  your  nlredicnt  servant, 

Alpkeu  Douoms,” 

Containing  as  it  did  sucli  a spirited  defence  of  homosexual 
conduct,  it  was  scarcely  surpfi,sing  ilwt  W.  T.  Stead  should  decline 
to  publish  this  lelier  in  his  review.  Douglas  wrote  another  letter 
in  similar  terms  to  Henry  Labouchere,  the  editor  of  Truth,  and 
Labouchete  likewise  declined  to  publish  it.  Unfortunately  for 
Douglas,  this  second  letter  was  to  be  produced  with  damaging 
effect  to  the  writer's  cliaracter  in  the  libel  action  brought  by 
Douglas  against  Mr.  Arthur  Ransome,  his  publisher,  and  The 
Times  Book  Club  eighteen  years  later.’ 

In  1896  Douglas  succeeded  in  getting  his  views  on  the  subject 
into  print  in  a French  journal.  It  came  about  in  this  way.  Unable 
to  find  a publisher  for  his  poems  in  England,  Douglas  managed 
to  arrange  for  their  publication  by  the  Mercure  de  France,  the  well- 
known  Paris  monthly  magazine.  Another  journal  of  rather  more 
advanced  opinions,  called  the  Revue  Blanche,  had  already  published 
several  of  these  poems,  and  when  the  editor  of  the  latter  learned 
that  they  were  shortly  all  to  appear,  he  a^ed  Douglas  to  write  an 
article  by  way  of  introducing  mem  to  the  French  public  and  at  the 
same  time  setting  forth  his  comments  on  the  Wilde  case.  Douglas’s 
knowledge  of  the  French  language  was  not  sufficient  to  enable  him 
to  write  the  article  in  Frenm,  so  it  was  arranged  that  he  should 
write  it  in  English  and  it  should  be  translated  by  the  editor  and 

^ See  above>  p.  95,  and  note. 


362 


Appendix  D. 


published  in  his  version  over  Douglas’s  name.  The  appearance  of 
the  article  in  this  form  produced  considerable  excitement  on  both 
sides  of  the  channel,  and  Douglas  was  under  such  concentrated 
attack  from  various  quarters  that  he  was  eventually  persuaded  to 
say  that  the  French  version  did  not  accurately  ‘reflect  his  views.* 
But  in  later  years  he  admitted  that  the  translation  was  entirely 
faithful.*  In  any  event  the  survival  of  the  original  English  text, 
from  which  the  following  extracts  arc  taken,  places  the  matter 
beyond  doubt. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  article  Douglas  stated  that  in  France 
he  was  regarded  as  “the  young  friend  of  Oscar  Wilde,  or  to  be 
more  explicit,  the  child  that  Oscar  Wilde  loved,”  and  as  such  he  was 
pitied  by  some  and  detested  by  others.  “It  is  curious  to  reflect  that 
had  I the  good  fortune  to  live  in  Athens  in  the  lime  of  Pericles,”  he 
went  on,  “the  very  conduct  which  at  present  has  led  to  my  disgrace 
would  then  have  resulted  in  my  glory.  To-day  I am  proud  that 
I have  been  loved  by  a great  poet  who,  perhaps,  esteemed  me 
because  he  recognized  that  beadcs  a beautiful  body  I possessed  a beau- 
tiful soul.”  For  the  reversal  of  public  opinion,  and  the  “ignorant 
persecudon  of  the  excellent  persons  who  are  in  very  truth  the  salt 
of  the  earth,”  he  blamed  the  church.  But  he  admitted  that  the 
church,  while  severe  on  sodomy,  had  countenanced  the  passionate 
love  which  existed  between  friends  of  the  same  sex  provided  it 
was  chaste.  “On  this  question,  she  adopts  the  Platonic  view.  The 
ordinary  man,  the  man  in  the  street,  however,  detests  and  despises 
such  passionate  affection  whether  they  be  pure  or  otherwise  and, 
however  laudable  they  may  be,  his  indignation  is  directed  against 
the  affection  itself  and  not  against  that  which,  after  all,  is  only 
an  accident  of  the  affection.”  Hence,  as  he  put  it,  “there  has 
always  been  and  always  will  be  a thousand  Queensberrys  for  one 
Oscar  Wilde.” 

When  he  came  to  write  about  the  trial,  Douglas’s  remarks  were 
scarcely  less  restrained  and  unwise  than  they  had  been  on  the 
subject  of  his  relations  with  Wilde.  Indeed,  had  they  been  uttered 
in  England  they  might  well  have  involved  him  in  a prosecution  for 
criminal  libel. 

The  article,  which  appeared  la  the  Reeue  Blanchf  iot  lat  Tune,  1996,  was 
entitled  "Vne  tntroduct/oa  d mes  ^oemes  avee  quelqw  considirottons  sur  V off atre 
Wilde  Its  authentidty  was  denied  by  Douglas  m his  book  Oscar  Wilde  and 
Myself  (1914)1  Ch.  xiv.  R.  H.  Sherard,  who  was  living  in  Paris  at  ^ time  o£ 
the  projected  appearance  of  die  article,  tried  uosuccessrally  to  have  it  stopped: 
see  The  Real  Oscar  Wilde  (1915),  at  p.  390. 

^cp.LeofiLeinooiuer,L0  Vie  d'Oscar  Wilde  {1931),  at  p.  203:  “Au  cours  eiitre> 
tien  particulier.  Lord  Alfred  m’a  avou4  qu’il  dtait  I’autcur  de  I’article  et  que  son 
traductcur,  Felix  Fendon,  ne  I’avait  nullcmcnt  trahi.” 

363 


Oscar  Wilde. 


“Everyone  is  familiar  with  the  origin  of  the  Oscar  Wilde 
case.  It  is  sufficient  for  me  to  say — but  is  it  not  clear  to  every- 
one — that  the  pretentions  of  my  Lord  Queensberry  to  have 
acted  in  the  interests  of  virtue  to  save  his  son  was  pure 
hypocrisy.  If  in  the  mind  of  anyone  there  may  linger  the 
possibility  of  the  thought  that  Lord  Queensberry  could  be 
capable  of  a sentiment  of  moral  indignation,  I would  refer 
them  to  his  life  and  tell  them  that  if  his  deeds  of  bestiality  have 
not  been  made  known  to  the  rabble  to  make  him  an  object  of 
disgust  he  owes  it  to  the  superhuman  generosity  of  his  wife— 
my  mother — whom  he  besought  that  she  should  keep  his 
conduct  secret.  What  right,  I ask,  had  such  a man  to  pose  as 
the  pati'on  of  virtue?  . . , 

To  return  to  the  trial.  I am  confident  that  the  Govern- 
ment did  not  wish  to  let  tile  prosecution  of  Oscar  Wilde  t^e 
its  regular  course.  My  readers  will  recall  that  the  first 
criminal  trial  resulted  in  disagreement  of  the  jury  and  the 
question  is  consequently  pertinent— why  did  the  Crown  take 
the  very  irregular  course  of  having  a second  trial — why  was 
the  prosecution  conducted  witii  this  extraordinary  animosity; 
briefly  why  did  the  Crown  miinifcst  so  eager  a desire  to 
obtain  a verdict  of  guilty?  The  reason  is  very  simple.  The 
Government  was  intimidated;  the  second  trial  was  the  result 
of  a. political  intrigue.  I would  wish  to  ask  Mr.  Asquith,  the 
then  Home  Secretary  and  an  old  friend  of  Oscar  Wilde,  if 
he  was  not  threatened  by  Lord  Rosebery  that  if  a second  trial 
was  not  instituted  and  a verdict  of  guilty  obtained  against 
Mr.  Wilde,  the  Liberal  party  would  be  removed  from  power. 
The  fact  is  that  the  Liberal  party  then  contained  a large 
number  of  men  whom  I have  referred  to  as  the  salt  of  the 
earth.  The  maniacs  of  virtue  threatened  a series  of  legal 
acdons  which  would  have  created  an  unprecedented  scandal 
in  Europe — a scandal  in  political  circles.  If  Oscar  Wilde  was 
found  guilty  the  matter  would  be  hushed  up.  This  was  the 
cause  of  the  second  trial,  and  the  verdict  of  guilty.  It  was 
a degrading  coup-d’Stat — the  sacrifice  of  a great  poet  to  save 
a degraded  band  of  politicians. 

The  conviction  of  Oscar  Wilde  was  one  of  the  last  acts  of 
this  disgraceful  and  discredited  Liberal  party  who  is  now  in 
an  exceptional  minority  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

There  is  nothing  more  to  say.  Oscar  Wilde  is  in  jail  and 
will  remain  there  till  the  expiration  of  his  sentence.  A 
national  crime  has  been  committed,  a crime  from  which  no 

364 


Appendix  D. 


clement  o£  morbid  intrigue,  sensuality,  cruelty  and  hypocrisy 
is  wanting,  . . 

In  English  politics  the  Liberals  had  been  succeeded  by  a 
Conservative  adininistration  headed  by  Lord  Salisbury,  with  Mr. 
AAur  Balfour  as  Leader  of  the  House  of  Commons.  Dou^s 
pointed  out  in  the  final  paragraphs  of  his  article  that  Balfour  was 
a man  of  culture  and  a philosopher  who  had  been  a friend  of 
Wilde’s  and  was  an  admirer  of  his  genius.  This  was  the  person 
who  might  help.  Accordingly,  Douglas  appealed  to  the  leading 
writers  in  France,  in  particular  to  Henri  Bauer,  Paul  Adam,  and 
Octave  Mirbeau,  whom  he  mentioned  by  name,  to  write  personally 
to  the  Conservative  leader  and  urge  him  to  release  the  prisoner. 
The  new  Government  had  shown  solicitude  for  Dr.  Jameson  and 
his  band  of  filibusters  in  the  Transvaal,  Certainly  a poet  and  an 
artist  had  an  equal  claim  to  their  protection.  And  now,  asked 
Douglas  in  conclusion,  who  would  play  the  part  of  Nicodemus  to 
Mr.  Balfour? 

Opinion  in  France  at  this  time  as  expressed  in  the  literary 
journals  was  unanimous  in  condemning  the  sendments  expressed 
in  this  atdcle.  Writers  such  as  Henri  Bauer,  who  had  been  pro- 
minent for  their  sympathy  towards  Wilde  in  the  hour  of  his 
tragedy,  stigmatized  Douglas’s  intervention  as  clumsy  and  sensa- 
rinnal.  The  repercussions  were  not  slow  in  making  themselves  felt 
on  the  editor’s  head;  and  it  is  significant  that,  in  the  following 
issue  of  the  Revue  Blanche,  Douglas  was  at  pains  to  point  out  in 
the  course  of  an  explanatory  statement  that  "I'amour  de  man  ami 
pour  moi  Stait  platonique,  e’espa-dire  pur."  But  there  is  no  doubt 
that  the  article  did  Douglas  a great  deal  of  harm,  and  it  made  his 
stay  in  France  much  more  difficult  and  embarrassing  for  him  than 
it  otherwise  might  have  been.* 

However  he  may  have  continued  to  feel  about  Lord  Rosebery 
and  the  late  Liberal  administration,  it  must  always  be  remembered 
in  justice  to  his  reputation  that  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  lived  to 
modify  very  considerably  his  views  on  the  controversial  subject  of 
homosexuality.  Nevertheless,  for  many  years  after  the  publica- 
tion of  the  notorious  Revue  Blanche  article  these  views  remained 
unchanged. 

B In  tlie  previous  year,  when  he  was  staying  in  Le  Ha'vre,  hk  action  in  hiring 
a small  yacht  with  two  boys  as  deck  hands  produced  a violent  attack  by  a locm 
newspaper  whiA  accused  him  of  corrupting  the  youth  of  the  town.  "Pour  moi," 
he  replied  in  a letter  to  the  Journal  de  Havre,  dated  ist  Au^t,  1895,  "c’csl 
trop  evident  que  le  tnonde  a le  droit  de  m’insultcr  et  de  m’injurier  parce  que  jc  sms 
I'aizii  d*  Oscar  Wilde.  Voili  mon  crime,  non  pas  que  j'dtais  son  ami,  mais  que 
je  serai  jtuqu'k  la  mort  (et  mime  aprb  si  Dieu  le  veut).*' 

365 


Oscar  Wilde. 


On  being  reunited  with  Wilde  after  the  latter’s  release  from 
prison— the  iirsi  reunion  took  place  in  the  same  hotel  in  Rouen 
m which  the  letter  reproduced  above  had  been  dashed  off  so 
feverishly— we  find  Douglas  writing  in  similar  if  somewhat  more 
guarded  terms  to  his  mother.  “Don’t  think  that  I have  changed 
about  him  or  dial  I have  changed  my  views  about  morals,"  he 
told  Lady  Queensberry  at  the  end  of  1897.  “I  still  love  and  admire 
him,  and  I think  he  has  been  infamously  treated  by  ignorant  aad 
cruel  brutes.  I look  upon  him  os  a martyr  to  progress.  I associate 
myself  with  him  in  everything.  I long  to  hear  of  his  success  and 
rehabilitation  in  the  post  whidi  is  his  by  right  at  the  very  summit 
of  English  literamre,  nor  do  I intend  to  cease  corresponding  with 
him  Or  not  to  see  him  from  lime  to  time  in  Paris  and  elsewhere. 

I give  up  nothing  and  admit  no  point  against  him  or  myself 
separately  or  jointly.’” 

Douglas  conlimied  in  this  frame  of  mind  fur  some  time  after 
Wilde’s  death.  The  change  was  gmdunl ; its  ctimplciion  coincided 
with  his  reception  iniii  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  in  igii. 
Henceforward  he  openly  expressed  hl.s  ahhorrciicc  of  homosexuality, 
particularly  in  his  Autobiasraphy  {1929)  and  in  his  later  and  final 
study  of  Wilde,  whicli  was  published  in  1940.*  Looking  back  to 
the  period  of  his  youthful  folly,  he  wrote : “At  that  time  I not  only 
loved  and  admired  Wilde  as  a friend  ami  a man  of  genius,  but  I 
entirely  sympathized  with  his  vices,  which  I did  not  regard  as 
vices  at  all.  I was  a complete  and  frank  pagtn  and  scorned  the 
Chrisdan  ethic."  For  this  reason  Douglas  considered  that  his 
original  atdtude  was  in  a measure  justified.  The  truth  was  that 
the  subject  of  homosexuality  was  regarded  with  exaggerated  horror 
at  the  time  of  Wilde’s  conviction,  an  attitude  which  Douglas  felt 
squared  very  imperfectly  with  the  private  lives  of  many  of  those, 
such  as  his  own  father,  who  were  most  conspicuous  in  condemning 
it. 

“The  fact  that  I now  bathe  and  detest  what  I then  thought 
innocuous,  if  not  actually  a fine  thing  in  itself,”  he  went  on  to  say 
in  his  last  book  not  long  before  he  died,  “cannot  prevent  me  from 
seeing  that,  according  to  my  then  lights,  the  attitude  I took  up  was 
courageous  and  admirable.  I was  fifty  years  in  advance  of  my 
time.  I was  persecuted,  almost  as  badly  as  Wilde  was  himself, 
for  that  attitude  wltich  never  varied  right  up  to  the  time  of  Wilde’s 
death.  I was  in  perfect  good  faith;  my  only  fault  was  that  I 
declined  to  conform  to  what  I considered  to  be  the  hypocridcal 
pretence  that  homosexuality  was  an  offence  in  a class  by  itself  and 
worse  than  murder.” 

~ 7 x^rd  Alfred  Dougin,  Without  Apology  at  p.  ?o4. 

’ Oscar  Wilde:  A Summing  Vp, 

366 


Appendix  E. 


APPENDIX  E. 

THE  PROBLEM  OF  WILDE’S  INVERSION. 

Wilde  must  necessarily  be  considered  from  the  view  point  of 
his  pathological  case  history.  First,  there  is  the  quesdon  of  heredity 
and  early  environment.  As  is  now  generally  Imown,  he  was  the 
child  of  parents  of  exceptional  ability  as  well  as  of  marked  eccen- 
tricity. Their  tendencies  were  destined  to  become  concentrated  in 
himself  in  a striking  degree.  They  must  explain  his  congenital 
antipathy  for  the  ordinary  and  commonplace,  his  natmal  love  of 
pradox  and  his  sestheticism,  aU  of  which  he  sought  to  express  in 
his  conversation  and  writings.  Sir  William  Wilde,  moreover,  was 
a man  whom  we  should  regard  to-day  as  being  over-sexed ; he  was 
a notorious  runner  after  women  by  whom  he  had  numerous 
illegitimate  offspring,  and  he  figured  in  a sensational  trial  in  Dublin 
in  the  sixties  in  which  he  was  accused  of  having  violated  a woman 
patient  in  his  surgery,  having  first  put  her  under  the  influence  of 
chloroform.  Lady  Wilde,  the  poetess  “Speranza,”  on  the  other 
hand,  exhibited  certain  peculiar  physical  characteristics,  due  to  the 
excessive  development  of  the  pituitary  gland,  which  were  repro- 
duced in  her  son.  This  excess  manifests  itself  in  a general  physical 
overgrowth.  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw  has  recalled  that  her  hands,  for 
instance,  were  enormous,  “and  the  gigantic  splaying  of  her  palm  was 
reproduced  in  her  lumbar  region.’’  To  Shaw  Wilde  thus  appeared 
as  an  overgrown  man  with  something  not  quite  normal  about  his 
bigness.  To  those  such  as  Lady  CoUn  Campbell,  who  were  repelled 
by  his  physical  appearance,  he  was  “that  great  white  caterpillar." 
There  is,  undoubtedly,  some  truth  in  his  fellow  Irishman's 
diagnosis.  “I  have  always  maintained  that  Oscar  was  a giant  in 
the  pathological  sense,”  Shaw  has  written,  “and  that  this  explains 
a good  deal  of  his  weakness.’” 

It  has  been  said  that  “Speranza”  was  disappointed  that  her  son 
Oscar  was  not  a girl,  and  a good  deal  has  Been  made  by  some 
observers  of  the  fact  that  she  dressed  him  in  girls’  clothes  during 
his  childhood  days,  decking  him  out  with  jewds  which  made  him 
look  like  “a  litde  Hindu  idol.”  But  this  treatment  has  probably 
little,  if  any,  pathological  significance  in  Wilde's  case.  Victorian 

1 See  Bernecd  Shaw,  "Memotiea  of  Oscar  Wilde,”  quoted  in  Frank  Harris, 
Life  md  Conjmdons  of  Oscar  Wilde,  vtd.  it  (American  Edition), 

367 


Oscar  Wilde. 


mothers  were  accustomed  to  dress  their  children  of  either  sex  in 
petticoats  and  skirts  until  they  were  six  or  seven.  And  to  this 
day,  as  cite  biographer  ol  Wilde's  fadier  lias  pointed  out,  litde  boys 
are  dressed  as  gu'ls  in  parts  ol  rural  Irchutd,  lest  the  dairies  should 
steal  them,  “for,  of  course,  the  tiirics  arc  only  interested  in  little 
boys.”’  .Furthermore,  any  disappointment  “Speranaa”  may  have 
endured  by  reason  of  Oscar's  sex  did  not  last  long,  for  she  succeeded 
in  having  the  desired  daughter  four  years  after  Oscar  was  born. 

Havelock  Ellis  has  expressed  the  opinion  that  homosexual  germs 
were  latent  in  Wilde's  constitudon  from  the  first,  although,  as  we 
know,  they  did  not  become  active  until  he  was  in  his  early 
thirties.’  Certain  it  is  that  Wilde  betrayed  no  signs  of  abnormality 
in  adolescence  and  early  manhood.  On  the  contrary,  his  inclina- 
tions seemed  to  have  been  decidedly  heterosexual.  While  an  under- 
graduate at  Oxford  he  contracted  syphilis  as  the  result  of  a casual 
connexiou,  probably  with  a prostitute.  In  those  days  the  recognized 
treatment  for  diis  disease  was  wiUi  mercury.  In  Wilde’s  case  this 
treatment  undoubtedly  produced  the  discolouration  and  decay  in 
his  teeth,  which  remained  a permanent  feature  of  his  appearance 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life  and  added  to  the  general  impression 
of  physical  overgrowth  and  ugliness  which  bis  person  presented  on 
acquaintance.  Nor,  it  may  he  added,  was  there  the  slightest  sug- 
gestion of  effeminacy  about  him,  cither  at  Oxford  or  at  any  subse- 
quent period.  If  somewhat  ungainly  in  movement,  he  was  endowed 
with  an  abundant  measure  of  manly  strength,  as  a number  of 
his  college  contemporaries  discovered  to  their  cost  when  they 
attempted  to  subject  him  to  an  undergraduate  “ragging.” 

We  know  too  that  he  was  deeply  in  love  with  his  wife  at  the 
time  of  thdr  marriage,  and  that  they  experienced  normal  sexual 
intercourse.  Indeed,  two  sons  were  born  of  the  union  before  the 
rift  between  them  took  place.  At  the  beginning  the  husband 
seems  to  have  been  an  enthusiastic  lover.  To  a friend  whom  he 
chanced  to  meet  during  the  honeymoon  he  spontaneously  expatiated 
upon  the  physical  joys  of  wedlock.  And  on  the  occasion  of  his 
first  separation  from  his  wife,  some  months  later,  he  wrote  to  her 
from  Edinburgh:  “Here  am  I;  and  you  at  the  Antipodes:  0 
execrable  fates  that  keep  our  lips  from  Idssing,  though  our  souls 
are  one.  . . . The  messages  of  die  gods  to  each  other  travel  not  by 
pen  and  ink,  and  indeed  your  bodily  presence  here  would  not 
make  you  more  teal ; for  I feel  your  mgers  in  my  hair  and  your 


* T.  G.  Wilson,  Viaorian  Ductor  (1943),  at  p.  324. 

s Havelock  Ellis,  Stu^s  in  the  Psychotozy  of  Sex,  vol.  11,  part  2,  at  pp.  48-49 
(New  York,  1936). 

368 


Appendix  E. 


cheek  brushing  mine.  The  air  is  full  of  the  music  of  your  voice, 
my  soul  and  body  seem  no  longer  mine,  but  mingled  in  some 
exquisite  ecstasy  with  yours."* 

Before  proposing  to  his  wife,  Wilde  had  been  to  consult  a doctor 
in  London,  who  had  assured  him  that  he  was  completely  cured  of 
his  youthful  malady.  On  the  strength  of  his  assurance  he  got 
married.  About  two  years  kter  he  dscovered  to  his  dismay  that 
all  traces  of  syphilis  had  not  been  eradicated  from  his  system,  and 
it  was  this  unpleasant  discovery  which  obliged  him  to  discontinue 
physical  relations  with  his  wife.  In  the  result,  inter  alia,  he  turned 
towards  homosexuality.® 

At  first  Wilde  developed  what  was  merely  an  inquisitive  interest 
in  inversion.  Such  an  inquisitive  interest,  as  Havelock  Ellis  has 
observed,  is  sometimes  the  sign  of  an  emerging  homosexual  impulse. 
According  to  his  interesting  contemporary,  Andrd  Raffalovich,  he 
liked  to  discuss  the  subject  with  his  friends.*  “I  do  not  think,”  he 
used  to  tell  them,  “that  the  people  who  do  these  things  derive  as 
much  pleasure  as  I do  from  talking  about  them."  Prominent  homo- 
sexual characters  in  history  began  to  attract  him.  He  was 
fascinated  by  the  story  of  James  I’s  favourite,  Robert  Carr,  Earl  of 
Somerset,  who,  on  the  eve  of  his  trial  for  the  murder  of  Sir  Thomas 
Overbury,  threatened  to  reveal  publicly  that  “the  King  had  slept 
with  him";  the  result  was  that  two  men  with  long  red  robes  were 
posted  on  either  side  of  the  accused  man  in  Court  with  instructions 
to  stifle  any  attempted  incrimination  of  His  Majesty.  In  this 
context  he  studied  the  lives  of  Plato  and  Michelangelo,  and  he 
conducted  a piece  of  ingenious  search  into  the  origins  of 
Shakespeare’s  sonnets  to  “W.  H."  whom  he  claimed  to  be  a boy 
actor  named  Willie  Hewes  whom  the  dramatist  admired.*  Wilde 
is  stated  by  Railalovich  to  have  shown  marked  enthusiasm  for  the 

* Eons  Bnuol,  Oscar  Wilde  (n38),  >t  y.  3;!. 

SBrasol,  op.  ciu,  at  pp.  353^359.  Braiof'i  piiacipal  authoihy  for  this  episode 
was  the  late  R.  H.  Sherard,  Wilde's  fifead  and  bio^pher. 

» Marc-Andii  Rafialovich  (1865-193A  psycholopst  aad  litUnsleur,  becoaie  an 
authority  on  this  aspect  of  Wilde's  He  bdonged  to  3 wealthy  hitniiy  of 
Russian  bankers  in  Paris,  and  his  sister  married  William  O'Brien,  the  Irish 
Kadonalist  leader.  At  this  time  he  was  liying  in  London  and  was  a friend  among 
others  of  Aubrey  Beardsley,  being  the  anonymous  reeipienc  of  the  contents  of  the 
Last  Letters  of  AsArey  Beardsley  (1904).  His  study  of  male  homosexuality,  VrastUrtte 
et  UtdsextsaUte,  whidi  was  published  in  France  in  the  year  following  Wilde's  con- 
viction, contained  the  first  full  though  not  notice.ibIy  sympathetic  account  of  the 
trials  and  their  background  to  appear  in  any  language,  besides  a gnat  ^ deal  of 
material  on  the  history  and  prevalence  of  inversion  in  England,  I am  indebted 
to  die  library  of  the  Royal  Medico-Fsychological  Association  in  London  for  the 
use  of  its  copy  of  this  scarce  and  ioteresdng  work. 

t the  Portrait  of  Mr.  W.  H.  In  iu  on^nal  form  this  essay  first  appeared  in 
Blachtsrood's  "Bdinbtirgh  Magaziae''  for  July,  1889. 
lA  369 


Oscar  Wilde. 


subject  .as  a result  of  reading  Monsieur  Venus,  "Rachilde’s”  extra- 
ordinary novel  on  the  theme  of  male  homosexuality,  which  caused 
such  a sensation  on  its  first  appearance  in  1889" 

Indeed,  sin  in  all  its  aspects  now  became  a pre-occupation  with 
Wilde.  This  is  evident  in  his  writings,  such  as  Intentions  (1891), 
Lord  Arthur  Savile's  Crime  (1891),  and  Salomd  (1893).  In  The 
Picture  of  Dorian  Gray,  too,  there  is  in  addition  a strong  atmo- 
sphere of  homosexuality.  “It  is  an  odd  and  very  audacious  pro- 
duction, unwholesome  in  tone,  but  artistically  and  psychologically 
interesting,”  wrote  John  Addington  Symonds  on  its  original  appear- 
ance in  Uppincott's  Magazine  in  the  summer  of  1890.  “If  the 
British  public  will  stand  this,  they  can  stand  anything.  However, 

I resent  the  unhealthy,  scented,  mystic,  congested  touch  which  a 
man  of  this  sort  lias  on  mortil  problems.” 

Wilde's  attitude  towards  “beautiful  sins,"  as  exemplified  in 
Dorian  Gray,  was  generally  considered  as  part  of  his  general  pose 
at  litis  time.  "It’s  only  Oscar,"  people  argued.  “He  likes  to  talk 
about  it,  but  he  doesn't  do  anything.”  Vnr  example,  he  would 
leE  any  young  male  acquaintance  who  hapitencd  to  catch  his  fancy 
that  he  was  the  only  one  who  could  provide  him  with  a new  thrill 
and  knew  how  to  mix  romiincc  and  cynichsm.  Hi.s  habit  of  wear- 
ing as  a bultonliole  a carnation  artificially  culoured  green,  a dis- 
tinctive emblem  which  he  knew  to  be  worn  by  homosexuals  in 
Paris,  was  speedily  taken  up  by  bis  youthful  admirers  on  this 
side  of  the  channel  and  did  not  pass  without  adverse  comment. 
Indeed  the  cult  of  the  green  carnation  produced  one  of  the  most 
amusing  and  successful  literary  skits  of  the  times.* 

However,  there  were  some  who  pretended  to  discern  in  Wilde's 
behaviour  more  than  mere  posing.  These  particular  observers  were 
nearer  the  mark  than  the  others.  There  are  strong  grounds  for 
believing  that  Wilde  was  initiattd  into  homosexual  practices  in 


8 “Rachilde"  was  the  pseudonym  employed  by  the  French  novelist  Marguerite 
Eytnccy,  who  mariied  /dfred  Vallctte,  founder  of  the  Mercnre  de  France, 

a Horatio  Brown,  Lettm  and  Papers  of  John  Addington  Symonds  (1913),  at 
p.  340. 

I TAe  Green  Carnation  was  first  published  anonymously  in  London  in  September, 
1894.  In  reviewing  it,  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette  suggested  that  Wilde  himself  was 
the  author,  a suggestion  which  he  chaiacteristicaliy  denied.  "I  invented  th« 
magiuficenc  flower/'  he  wrote  to  rids  ymroal.  "But  with  the  middLc  class  aoo 
memocre  hook  that  usurps  its  strangely  beautiful  name  I have,  I need  hardly  say, 
nothing  whatever  to  do.  The  Flower  is  a work  of  Art.  The  book  is  not."  The 
real  audior  was  Robert  Hichena,  who  has  rcloted  the  story  of  its  comporition  and 
publication  in  his  recent  autobiography,  Yesterday  (1947). 

370 


Appendix  E. 

1886  by  Robert  Ross.®  This  was  the  year  following  the  passing  of 
the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act,  of  which  section  ii  made 
indecencies  between  males  an  offence  even  if  praciised  in  private. 
This  legislation  thus  added  a spice  of  danger  to  conduct  which, 
however  repugnant  to  the  majority  of  human  beings,  had  not 
hitherto  been  regarded  as  criminal  in  England.  This  dement 
was  certainly  not  lost  upon  Wilde.  “It  was  like  feasting  with 
panthers,”  as  he  wrote  in  De  Profundis,  “the  danger  was  half 
the  excitement.”® 

The  precise  mode  in  which  Wilde’s  peculiar  inverted  instincts 
found  satisfaction  is  of  interest  from  the  medico-legal  standpoint. 
His  conduct  with  the  various  youths  whom  he  met  or  who  were 
procured  for  him  usually  began  with  close  physical  contact  and 
fondling.  He  would  pretend,  for  instance,  in  the  case  of  Charles 
Parker,  that  the  youth  was  a woman  and  that  he  was  her  lover. 
This  would  he  accompanied  by  some  form  of  mutual  masturbation 
and  intercrural  intercourse.*  Finally  feUatio  would  be  practised 
with  Wilde  as  the  aedve  agent,  though  this  role  was  occasionally 
reversed.  There  was  no  question  of  actual  pedicatio  being  per- 
petrated. It  was  suggested  by  only  one  of  the  wimesses  who  gave 
evidence  at  his  trial  that  Wilde  committed  sodomy.  Not  indeed 
was  he  ever  charged  at  any  time  with  this  offence,  although  such 
a charge,  subsequently  dropped,  was  made  against  his  confederate 
Alfred  Taylor. 

Wilde's  experiences  at  the  Old  Bailey  and  in  Reading  Gaol 
failed  to  convince  him  that  his  conduct  was  morally  wrong,  how- 
ever it  might  have  been  legally.  Even  from  the  witness-box  he 
attempted  to  justify  his  behaviour  under  the  guise  of  so-called 
platonic  love  in  a passage  in  which,  it  must  be  admitted,  he  was 
moved  to  a remarkable  flight  of  doquence.  His  only  regret  in 
prison  was  that  he  had  sometimes  been  guilty  of  conduct  unworthy 
of  an  artist.  After  his  release,  as  we  have  seen,  .he  resumed  his 

s Frank  Harris  told  Lord  Alfred  Douglas,  when  after  many  years  they 
renewed  their  acquaintance  at  Nice  in  lyay,  that  Eoss  had  actually  boasted  K>  him 
that  he  was  "the  first  boy  Oscar  ever  had,"  and  that  their  homosexual  relationship 
had  begun  in  about  the  year  18BS.  At  that  date  Ross  was  17  and  Wilde  32.  Mr. 
Arthur  Ransome,  who  obtained  the  biogr^lcal  details  for  his  study  of  Wilde  from 
Robert  Ross,  must  be  taken  to  confirm  this  when  he  TOtes  that  "in  tSSfi  he  (Wilde) 
began  that  ctnirse  of  conduct  that  was  to  lead  to  his  downfall  in  1895."  See  A. 
Ransome,  Oicet  WUde  (ipra),  at  p.  ta.  For  amjjlification  of  Harris's  statement, 
in  which  Ross  is  alleged  to  have  confessed  to  Harris  that  he  and  not  Douglas  was 
“Oscar's  real  mistress,"  see  article  by  Samuel  Roth  in  The  Two  WoriJr  (New 
York,  rgafi),  vol.  1,  No.  4,  at  p.  400. 

* Sec  above,  p.  99, 

* Amongst  me  articles  of  clothing  found  in  Taylor's  rooins  were  several  pairs 
of  trousers  with  slits  or  vents  in  place  of  pockets,  a feature  plainly  designed  to 
facilitate  masturbatun. 


371 


Oscar  Wilde. 


homosexual  pwcuecs,  and  so  far  as  is  known,  they  continued  until 
the  time  of  his  final  illness.  “Even  when  I first  knew  him  he 
was  dominated  by  his  vice,”  Lord  Alfred  Douglas  has  said.  “After 
he  came  out  of  prison  he  had  literally  no  other  interest  in  life  at  all. 
All  he  thought  about  and  dreamed  about  was  the  gratification  of 
his  vice  artd  getting  money  by  any  means  and  at  whatever  cost  of 
honour  and  decency  and  honesty— to  gratify  it.  That  is  the  plain 
truth." 

On  one  occasion  only  during  this  last  phase  of  his  life  does  it 
appear  that  Wilde  deviated  from  what  had  become  his  habitual 
course  of  conduct.  This  was  shortly  after  his  release  from  prison 
when  he  was  living  at  Bcrncval  in  Normandy.  One  day  he  went 
into  Dieppe  where  he  met  the  poet  Ernest  Dowson  in  a caff. 
According  to  W.  B.  Yeats,  who  claimed  to  have  heard  the  story 
from  Dowson  himself,  Wilde’s  companion  on  this  occasion,  having 
pressed  upon  him  the  desitability  of  acquiring  "a  more  wholesome 
taste”  in  sex  matters,  kindly  offered  to  conduct  him  to  a local 
brothel  for  the  purpose  of  making  the  experiment.  They  managed 
to  scrape  up  enough  cash  between  them  to  defray  the  cost  of  such 
an  expedition  and  thereupon  set  out  together  for  the  establishment 
in  question,  to  which  appirently  l>ow.son  was  no  stranger.  Mean- 
while die  news  of  the  incident  had  become  known  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood and  a small  crowd  began  to  collect  round  the  entrance 
of  the  brothel  where  Dowson  was  waiting.  Presendy  Wilde 
emerged  from  the  building  evidendy  disappointed  by  his  exper- 
iences within.  “The  first  these  ten  years,”  he  said  to  Dowson  in  a 
low  voice,  “and  it  will  be  the  last.  It  was  like  cold  mutton!" 
And  then  raising  his  voice,  so  that  the  crowd  could  hear,  ha 
added:  “But  tell  it  in  England,  for  it  will  endrely  restore  my 
character.”* 

Lord  Alfred  Douglas  assured  me  as  an  absolute  fact  that  it  was 
Robert  Ross  who  at  Berneval  dragged  Wilde  back  to  homosexual 
practices.  "Oscar  told  me  this  himself,”  Douglas-  declared,  “one 
night  after  dinner  in  Paris  when  he  had  had  a great  many  drinks. 
I £d  not  mention  it  in  my  Autobiography  because  I thought  every- 
one would  think  I was  inventing  it  to  get  even  with  Ross.'  Also 

* See  W.  B.  Yeao,  Aotobiogmjihics  (1936),  at  p.  404. 

‘ Douj^as  conadeted  that  he  had  bees  robbed  of  the  verdict  to  which  he  wat 
entided  when  he  wai  prosecuted  by  Ross  at  the  Old  Bailey  in  November,  1914,  on 
a char«  of  criminal  lihd  (he  had  Scribed  Rost  as  a sodomite  and  habitual  associate 
of  male  pro^tutes)  and  the  jury  disagreed.  A nolle  prosequi  was  later  entered  by 
die  prosecudon  and  the  case  dropped.  In  the  light  of  the  evidence  given  at  this 
trial  it  mutt  be  admitted  that  Ross,  who  at  this  time  occupied  the  post  of  Assessor 
of  Keture  Vaiuadons  to  the  Board  of  Trade,  wat  eiuemely  fortunate  in  not  bring 
prosecuted  himself  on  similar  charges  to  Wilde,  Shortly  afterwards  he  was  the 

m 


Appendix  E. 


the  idea  was  so  revolting  that  I preferred  not  to  say  anything  about 
it.”  “As  for  Wilde’s  last  years  in  Paris,”  Douglas  went  on,  “the 
manner  of  his  life  there  was  notorious  and  he  was  quite  open 
about  it.  He  was  hand  in  glove  with  all  the  little  boys  on  the 
Boulevard.  He  never  attempted  to  conceal  it.  Oscar  bdieved,  as 
many  other  eminent  people  do,  that  he  had  a perfect  right  to 
indulge  his  own  tastes.  He  would  not  thank  you  for  trying  to 
make  people  believe  it  was  otherwise,  In  fact  nothing  irritated 
him  more  than  to  meet— as  he  occasionally  did— admirers  who 
refused  to  believe  that  he  was  addicted  to  the  vices  for  which  he 
was  condemned.  This  used  to  infuriate  him.” 

During  his  last  years  WUde  discussed  the  subject  with  his 
friend  Frank  Harris,  and  Harris  subsequently  reproduced  what  he 
alleged  to  have  been  Wilde’s  conversation  in  one  of  the  most 
controversial  chapters  in  his  book  on  Wilde,’  Whether  the  words 
which  Harris  puts  into  Wilde’s  mouth  were  actually  uttered  by 
him  is  not  of  great  consequence.  What  is  beyond  doubt  is  that, 
apart  from  the  question  of  their  verbal  accuracy,  they  do  reflect  the 
views  of  WUde  on  this  delicate  topic— views  to  which  their  author 
clung  with  an  obstinate  persistence. 

"What  you  call  vice,  Frank,”  said  Wilde,  according  to  Harris, 
“is  not  vice : it  is  as  good  to  me  as  it  was  to  Catsar,  Alexander, 
Michelangelo,  and  Shakespeare.  It  was  first  of  all  made  sin  by 
monasticism,  and  it  has  been  made  a crime  in  recent  times  by  the 
Goths — the  Germans  and  English — ^who  have  done  little  or  nothing 
since  to  refine  or  exalt  the  ideals  of  humanity.  A brutal  race; 
they  over-eat  and  over-drink  and  condemn  the  lusts  of  the  flesh, 
while  revelling  in  all  the  vilest  sins  of  the  spirit.  If  they  would 
read  the  23rd  chapter  of  St.  Matthew  and  apply  it  to  themselves, 
they  would  learn  more  than  by  condemning  a pleasure  they  don’t 
understand.  Why,  even  Bentham  refused  to  put  what  you  call  a 
‘vice’  in  his  penal  code,  and  you  yourself  admitted  that  it  should 
not  be  punished  as  a crime;  for  it  carries  no  temptation  with  it.  It 
may  be  a malady  but,  if  so,  it  appears  only  to  attack  the  highest 
natures.  It  is  disgraceful  to  punish  it.  The  wit  of  man  can  find 
no  argument  which  justifies  its  punishment.” 

Harris’s  argument  that  homosexual  practices  had  been  “con- 
demned by  a hundred  generations  of  the  most  civilized  races  of 

rcdpknt  of  a substantial  sum  of  money  and  a public  testimonial  which  was  drawn 
up  by  Mr.  Edmund  Gosse  and  which  Induded  the  name  of  Mr.  Asquith,  who  was 
then  Prime  Minister.  In  intimating  that  he  desired  to  apply  the  money  to  tome 
puhlic  object,  Ross  showed  a certain  sente  of  humour,  since  the  money  was 
accepted  by  the  Senate  of  the  University  of  London  for  the  purpose  of  founding 
0 iMmhip  for  hoys,  to  be  called  "The  Robert  Ross  Seholarahip." 

1 Ch.  sxiv,  reproduced  m both  the  EnglUh  and  American  editions. 

373 


Oscar  Wilde. 


mankind”  iipparenily  left  Wilde  unimpressed,  "Merc  piejudice  of 
the  unlettered,  Frank,”  was  his  alleged  reply.  At  all  events,  Wilde 
seems  to  have  stuck  to  hLs  point.  “Of  course  everything  can  be 
argued,”  Harris  makes  him  say  in  conclusion,  “but  I hold  to  my 
conviction— the  best  minds  even  now  don’t  condemn  us,  and  the 
world  is  becoming  more  tolerant.” 

In  spite  of  the  pious  hope  expressed  in  these  last  words,  it 
would  appear  that  the  world  has  still  a long  distance  to  go  before 
it  can  be  said  to  have  arrived  at  a complete  and  satisfactory  under- 
standing of  the  problem  posed  by  Wilde’s  sexual  inversion.  But 
to-day  at  least  it  is  unusual  to  hear  it  referred  to  as  “vice,”  although 
it  still  remains  a crime  under  English  statute. 


37^ 


Appendix  F. 


APPENDIX  F. 

THE  PREVALENCE  OF  MALE  HOMOSEXUALITY  IN 
ENGLAND. 

Although  this  was  the  most  conspicuous  prosecution  of  its  kind 
which  had  taken  place,  under  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act 
of  1885,  it  must  not  be  supposed  from  the  evidence  in  Regina  v, 
Wilde  and  Taylor  that  homosexual  acts  were  any  novelty  in 
England  at  the  time  of  the  conviction  of  the  two  defendants  in  this 
case.  For,  as  Marcus  Aurelius  has  said,  “who  can  change  the 
desires  of  men?”  Male  homosexuality  has  certainly  been  pre- 
valent in  this  country  since  the  time  of  the  Norman  Conquest.’ 
At  least  four  English  kings  have  been  inverts,  as  also  have  been 
a number  of  distinguished  soldiers,  clergy,  poets,  peers  of  the  realm, 
Members  of  Parliament  and  others  prominent  in  one  rank  or 
another  of  English  society.  Further,  the  prevalence  of  homosexual 
conduct  is  attested  by  the  fact  that  sodomy  was  regarded  from 
early  times  as  an  ecclesiastical  ofience,  although  it  did  not  become 
a felony  and  thus  subject  to  ordinary  criminal  jurisdiction  until 
the  reign  of  Henry  VIII. 

The  spread  of  sodoraitical  habits  in  France  about  the  eleventh 
century  has  been  attributed  to  the  Normans,  and  there  is  little 
doubt  that  the  arrival  of  the  Normans  in  England  had  a similar 
effect.  We  are  told  on  good  authority  that  the  gilded  youth  of 
Normandy  and  of  Norman  England  began  to  wear  long  garments 
like  women,  and  let  their  hair  grow  long  and  they  copied  the  walk 
and  behaviour  of  women  and  wore  long  pointed  shoes  like  women. 
The  younger  son  of  William  the  Conqueror,  who  succeeded  his 
father  in  1087  and  is  usually  called  William  Rufus,  was  unques- 
tionably homosexual.  Indeed  his  conduct  was  so  scandalous  that, 
after  his  accidental  death  while  bunting  in  the  New  Forest  in  i too, 
his  corpse  was  denied  Christian  burial  by  the  Church.  “Into  the 
details  of  the  private  life  of  Rufus  it  is  well  not  to  grope  too 
narrowly,”  wrote  the  historian  Bishop  Freeman  in  the  eighties  of 


r On  this  subject  generatlT  see  Haveiock  Ellis,  Studies  in  the  Psyehology  of  Sex, 
vol.  n,  part  2,  Sexm  Inoertion  (New  York,  193^;  Eugen  Duhren  (Ivan  Bloch),  Des 
GetchUchtsleben  in  Bnehmd,  vol.  HI  (Berlin,  1903);  Maic-Audci  Bafialovidi 
Vnmisme  et  Umtexmlitl  (Paris  and  Lyon,  189Q,  and  works  therein  cited. 

375 


Oscar  Wilde. 


the  last  century;  "in  him  EiigLuid  might  see  on  her  own  soil 
habits  ol  the  ancient  Greek  imd  the  modern  Turk.""  William 
II's  two  nephews  and  most  o£  their  omipanions  who  perished  in  the 
wreck  o£  the  White  Ship  in  non,  were  likewise  inclined ; indeed, 
the  contemporary  historian  Henry  o£  Huntingdon  regarded  the 
loss  of  this  vessel  as  divine  judgment  for  the  crime  o£  sodomy. 
About  the  same  time  too  we  find  Archbishop  Anselm  of  Canter- 
bury writing  to  one  of  his  clergy  that  “this  sin  has  been  so  public 
that  hardly  anyone  has  blushed  for  it,  and  many,  therefore,  have 
plunged  into  it  without  realizing  its  gravity.” 

Two  centuries  later  another  homosexual,  or  more  probably 
bisexual  monarch,  sat  on  the  English  throne  in  the  person  of 
Edward  II.  His  love  of  low  company  and  his  association  with 
various  favourites,  notably  Piers  Gaveston,  are  now  matters  of 
fairly  common  knowledge.  Edward  was  muidered  at  the  instiga- 
tion of  his  wife  and  her  lover  in  Berkeley  Castle,  and  it  seems 
probable  that  the  peculiarly  revolting  manner  in  which  he  met  his 
death  was  dictated  by  popular  knowledge  o£  his  habits.* 

Although  dte  churen  took  cogniJance  of  the  rvime  of  sodomy, 
it  does  not  appear  to  have  liccn  dealt  with  at  all  severely.  There 
seems  to  have  been  a prevailing  opinion  that,  if  the  church  relin- 
quished convicted  offenders  to  the  secular  arm,  they  would  be 
burned  like  sorcerers  and  witchc.s.  It  is  practically  certain  that 
they  were  not  burned  and  that  on  the  contrary  they  enjoyed 
comparative  immunity  uniU  the  passing  of  the  Statute  of  1533, 
which  made  the  offence  a felony  and  puniishablc  capitally.  It  was 
only  a few  years  previously  that  Henry  VIII  had  decided  upon  the 
suppression  of  the  monasteries,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  act  was 
occasioned  by  the  unsatisfactory  state  of  affairs  revealed  by  some 
of  the  inhabitants  of  these  institutions.  The  Act  (25  Henry  VIII, 
c.  6)  was  repealed  in  tsay  by  Edward  VI,  along  with  other 
legislation  passed  in  his  father’s  time,  but  it  was  re-enacted  in  the 
following  year,  again  repealed  in  1553  and  finally  re-enacted  in 
1562  (5  Elizabeth,  c.  17),  when  Parliament  ordained  that  it  was  to 
be  perpetual.  It  remained  a capital  offence  until  the  beginning  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  when  the  death  penalty  was  abolished  for 
this  as  for  many  other  offences  at  the  instigation  of  Sir  Robert 
Peel,  then  Home  Secretary. 


a Edwaid  A.  Fietman,  The  Reign  of  William  Rufus,  I,  159  (i88a).  For  {ortho 
dOsilg  see  op.  at  11,  499-502. 

a According  to  the  contetnporaty  chronider,  Higden,  Edward  11  "was  sleyne 
with  a hoQte  Droche  putte  thro  the  secret  place  postcriale"  {cum  vero  igtsito  intsi 
eelunda  confossus  ignominiose  perempius  est)i  Rolls  Sciies.  Pohchiotiicau  Riuiulphi 
Higden.  Vm,  324  (1882). 

376 


Appendix  F. 


In  the  sixteenth  century  several  etninent  homosexual  men 
stand  out,  particularly  in  the  field  o£  drama  and  scholarship. 
Nicholas  Udall,  author  o£  Rdph  Roister  Doister,  a work  generally 
regarded  as  the  first  comedy  in  the  English  language,  was  an  invert 
and  even  a pervert.  As  headmaster  of  Eton,  he  was  noted  for  his 
love  o£  inflicting  corporal  punishment  on  the  boys,  which  no  doubt 
implied  a sadistic  sexual  impulse.  In  1541,  the  year  in  which 
Ralph  Roister  Doister  was  first  publicly  perfoimed,  Udall  was 
charged  with  unnatural  crime  and  confessed  his  guilt  before  the 
Privy  Council.  He  was  dismissed  from  his  headmastership  and 
imprisoned,  but  his  reputation  docs  not  appear  to  have  been 
greatly  injured,  for  he  subsequendy  enjoyed  a number  of  lucrative 
ecclesiastical  livings  and  Queen  Mary  appointed  him  headmaster 
of  Westminster  School  in  1553.  Elizabethan  writers  were,  of  course, 
accustomed  to  use  extravagant  language  in  paying  compliments  to 
members  of  their  own  sex,  but,  as  the  late  Edmund  Gosse  has  said 
in  his  biography  of  one  of  them,  Richard  Barnfield,  their  verses 
are  sometimes  “dedicated  to  a sentiment  of  friendship  so  exaggerated 
as  to  remove  them  beyond  wholesome  sympathy.”* 

Among  the  dramatists  of  the  period  must  be  included 
Christopher  Marlowe,  one  of  the  most  brilliant  writers  of  the  age, 
whose  works  as  well  as  whose  conduct  betrayed  his  feelings.  In 
his  most  powerful  drama,  Edward  11,  he  deals  with  the  rdations 
between  the  King  and  his  fevourites.  In  1593  Marlowe  was 
accused,  amongst  other  things,  of  having  openly  stated  that  “all 
the!  that  love  not  tobacco  and  boyes  are  foolcs.”'  A warrant  was 
issued  by  the  Privy  Council  for  his  arrest,  and  it  was  only  his 
sudden  death  immediately  afterwards  which  prevented  his  execu- 
tion. He  was  involved  in  a tavern  brawl  in  Bedford  and  was 
fatally  stabbed,  according  to  a contemporary,  “by  a bawdy  serving 
man,  a rival  of  his  in  his  lewd  love.” 

Shakespeare  has  also  been  discussed  in  this  connexion.  A view 
was  expressed  rather  more  than  a century  ago  by  the  historian 
and  critic  Henry  Hallam  that  it  would  have  been  better  for 
Shakespeare’s  reputation  if  the  sonnets  had  never  been  written. 
This  view  is  still  held  in  certain  quarters.  All  that  can  be  said, 
however,  is  that  Shakespeare  addressed  a long  series  of  sonnets  to  a 
youthful  male  friend,  whose  identity  is  still  in  dispute,  and  that, 
although  written  in  tender  language,  the  imputation  of  any  shame- 
ful relationship  or  feeling  is  scarcely  justified.  Shakespeare  is  so 
preoccupied  with  women  in  his  other  writings,  particularly  in  the 

s See  artiele  on  Birnfield  in  DiclKaary  of  Nanoital  Biography,  I,  iiSj. 

» See  Haveloek  EUk,  Christopher  Marlowe  (1887),  at  p.  tp$. 

tn 


Oscar  Wilde. 


twenty  iix  sonnets  to  the  so-callcU  “Dtuk  Lady,"  as  well  as  in 
such  dramas  of  heterosexual  (ussion  as  Troilus  and  Cressida, 
Measim  for  Measm-e,  and  Anthony  and  Cleopatra,  that  there  can 
be  little  it  any  doubt  that  he  was  free  from  traits  ol  abnormality. 

Shakespeare’s  eminent  contemporary,  Francis  Bacon,  does  not 
escape  judgment  so  easily,  Both  the  contemporary  writers  Aubrey 
and  Sir  Symonds  D'Ewes  assert  that  he  was  a pederast,  while  the 
latter  produced  evidence  which  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  o£ 
Bacon’s  homosexual  practices  with  his  own  servants.  These  charges 
are  supported  by  a letter  from  Bacon’s  mother  reproving  him  for 
his  alleged  behaviour,  It  may  be  added  that  Bacon’s  writings 
show  no  evidence  of  any  interest  in  or  attraction  to  women,  whilst 
the  essay  on  beauty  deals  exclusively  with  masculine  beauty. 

Rex  jtiit  Elizabeth,  nunc  est  regina  Jacobus.  King  James  I’s 
proclivities  in  this  direction  are  too  notorious  to  need  comment. 
Thttt  sovereign  had  numerous  favourites  and  there  can  be  little 
doubt  tltat  Robert  Carr,  whom  the  King  advanced  from  being  a 
page  to  the  earldom  of  Somerset,  was  pardoned  for  his  part  in  the 
murder  of  Sit  Tltomsis  0vcchiU7  for  fear  that  he  might  make  public 
the  details  of  Ids  crindnal  association  with  the  monarclt. 

The  first  trial  of  anyone  of  social  prominence,  and  the  first  to 
be  included  in  the  published  collection  of  Slate  Trials,  did  not  take 
place  until  almost  a century  after  the  passing  of  the  first  penal 
statute  in  the  rdgn  of  Henry  VIII.  In  1631  the  thiriy-eight-year- 
old  Earl  of  Castlchavcn  was  arraigned  before  his  peers  on  charges 
of  having  committed  sodomy  with  two  of  his  servants,  as  well  as 
for  a rape  on  his  own  wife.  It  is  a curious  case,  since  the  Ear! 
was  convicted  solely  on  the  testimony  of  his  wife  and  servants, 
while  the  motives  of  the  Countess,  who  seems  to  have  been  carry- 
ing on  an  intrigue  with  another  member  of  the  household,  are  not 
above  suspicion.  Further,  the  fact  that  Castlehaven  had  recently 
changed  nis  religion  from  Protestant  to  Catholic  did  not  help  him 
at  the  trial.  He  was  convicted  and  was  duly  sentenced  to  death 
and  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill.  The  two  servants,  Lawrence 
Fitzpatrick  and  Giles  Broadway,  were  subsequendy  charged  with 
the  same  serious  offence,  and  bang  commoners  were  hanged  at 
Tyburn.' 

As  might  be  expected,  the  Restoration  brought  a considerable 
wave  of  homosexuality  in  its  train.  It  was  the  opinion  of  the 
diarist  Pepys,  for  example,  that  the  Court  had  never  been  so  bad 
as  it  was  during  the  reign  of  Charles  II  for  “the  most  abominable 
vices  that  ever  were  in  the  world."  Charles’s  own  interests  were 


* State  Trials,  III,  402-426. 


378 


Appendix  F. 


otketwise  directed,  as  novelists  and  others  who  embroider  history 
arc  never  tired  oi  telling  us;  but  there  were  strong  grounds  for 
supposing  that  WiUiam  III,  who  became  king  after  the  revolution 
of  1688,  was  homosexual,  although  probably  not  in  so  pronounced  a 
degree  as  James  I.  Sir  John  Vanbrugh  was  not  ^aid  to  introduce 
the  subject  into  his  play,  The  Relapse,  which  received  its  first 
public  performance  in  1696.  The  King’s  habits  seem  to  have  been 
widely  shared  at  Court,  particularly  by  the  King’s  Minister,  Lord 
Portland,  who  shocked  the  French  by  his  behaviour  when  he  went 
to  Paris  as  Ambassador  in  1698.  “Nothing  is  more  ordinary  in 
England  than  this  unnatural  vice,  as  I was  told  by  an  Englishman 
himself,”  wrote  Elizabeth,  Duchess  of  Orleans,  at  this  time,  “and  all 
those  who  followed  Lord  Portland  to  Paris  led  a terrible  life  with 
the  debauchees  of  Paris.  Lord  Westmoreland  and  Lord  Raby  and 
three  or  four  others  did  not  hesitate  to  make  public  what  their 
inclinadons  were.  . . . You  ask  why  people  persist  in  tasting  such 
forbidden  pleasures,  but  since  the  days  of  Adam  it  has  always  been 
so,  that  forbidden  fruits  taste  better  than  those  that  are  allowed.”' 

In  spite  of  the  severe  penalties  to  which  those  practising  it  were 
liable,  homosexuality  continued  to  flourish  in  England  in  the 
eighteenth  century.  The  Old  Bailey  and  Middlesex  Sessions  papers 
abound  with  trials  for  sodomy  at  this  time,  and  many  death 
sentences  are  recorded,  although  the  law  seems  to  have  been  very 
fairly,  if  severely,  applied.  Readers  of  Smollett's  Roderick  Random, 
whii  first  appeared  in  1748,  may  remember  how  Lord  Strutwell 
observed  that  homosexuality  “^s  ground  apace  and  in  all  pro- 
bability will  become  in  a short  time  a more  fashionable  device  dian 
simple  fornication.”  Male  brothels  were  certainly  not  unknown 
in  London  in  1726.  There  is  a remarkable  trial  of  one  Margaret 
Clap  “for  keeping  a wdomitical  house  off  Holhorn,”  where  between 
forty  and  fifty  men  were  found  one  Sunday  evening  “making  love 
to  one  another,  as  they  called  it.”  Mistress  Clap  was  duly  con- 
victed and  sentenced  to  two  years'  imprisonment  as  well  as  to  stand 
in  the  pillory,* 

Among  the  more  notorious  trials  of  this  century  may  be  men- 
tioned that  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Thistlewayte,  of  Wadham  College, 
Oxford,  and  that  of  Samuel  Foote,  the  actor  and  dramatist-— the 
former,  in  1739,  for  an  assault  upon  one  of  his  pupils  in  college, 
and  the  latter,  in  1776,  for  an  assault  upon  a servant  whom  he  had 

ro.  S,  Stevenson,  The  Letters  ef  Madame,  I,  >56-257  (1924),  “The  Kii^ 
(William  m),”  wrote  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  in  1701,  "is  said  to  have  been  m 
love  with  Albemarle  as  with  a woman,  and  they  ay  he  used  to  kis  his  hands 

before  all  the  Court  00.  or.,  I,  217.  , , 

• Select  Tnals  at  the  Sessioas-HaKse  0/  the  Old  Bailey,  III,  37  (1742). 

379 


Oscar  Wilde. 


discharged  fiom  his  employ.  There  were  other  cases  which  never 
came  to  Court,  such  as  that  of  the  Reverend  Jolin  Fenwick,  Vicar 
of  Bryall,  in  Northumberland,  who  conveniently  removed  himself 
to  Naples  in  1797,  and  Willi.am  Beckford,  wealthy  squire  of  Font- 
hill  and  author  of  Vathe\,  who  was  obliged  to  spend  many  years 
in  exile  and  seclusion  for  Ms  part  in  a suppressed  scandal  in  1784. 
King  George  III  is  said  to  have  wished  Beckford  to  be  hanged, 
also  the  fifteen-year-old  Lord  Courtenay,  with  whom  in  the  course 
of  a country-house  visit  Beckford  is  supposed  to  have  been  dis- 
covered in  bed.  Certain  it  is  that  the  patent  of  peerage  which  had 
been  prepared  for  Beckford  was  cancdled,  and  die  suspect  imme- 
diately betook  himself  abroad,  there  to  remain  for  the  next  ten 
years. 

One  gains  the  impression  that,  relative  to  the  population  at  the 
time,  male  inversion  flourished  in  London  in  considerably  greater 
measure  than  it  does  to-day.  Nothwithsuinding  the  frequent 
infliction  of  the  death  penalty,  homosexual  practices  continued  in  a 
marked  degree  until  the  offence  ceased  to  he  punishable  capitally 
in  1818  i nor,  as  we  have  seen,  were  these  practices  confined  to  the 
more  humble  members  of  the  community.  The  poet  Byron,  to 
quote  another  example,  experienced  very  strong  emotions  towards 
his  male  friends,  but  it  is  probably  itue  to  say  that  he  was  bisexual. 
That  not  even  members  of  the  Royal  Family  were  free  from 
suspicion  at  this  time  appears  from  tlie  prosecudon  of  the  publisher 
Joseph  Phillips  for  a libel  arising  out  of  an  account  which  he 
pubfished  of  the  suicide  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland’s  valci  Scllis 
in  St.  James’s  Palace  in  1810. 

The  most  prominent  case  in  the  eaily  part  of  the  nineteenth 
cenmry  was  that  of  the  Hon.  Percy  Jocelyn,  Bishop  of  Clogher. 
The  bishop,  who  was  a younger  son  of  the  first  Earl  of  Roden,  was 
detected  with  a private  soldier  in  the  back  room  of  the  White  Lion 
Tavern,  off  the  Haymarket,  in  a situation  which  led  to  his  instant 
apprehension  on  the  night  of  19th  July,  1823.“  The  case  caused  a 
tremendous  sensation  at  the  time,  particularly  when  it  became 
known  that  the  bishop,  who  had  been  released  on  bail  by  the 
magistrate,  had  fled  the  country.*  Particular  animosity  was 
popularly  felt  towards  him  as  the  soldier  who  was  arrested  remained 
to  stand  his  trial  and  was  condemned. 


V For  detsjls,  ice  Amaal  Etgiiter,  1832,  Appendix,  pp.  425-433. 

1 Tie  GreiiUle  Mmam  (ed.  Lytton  Simchcy  and  Roger  Fulinrd),  vol.  I (1938). 
at  pp.  125-126.  The  hishop  later  returned  to  live  for  many  years  in  Scotland  with 
the  auumed  name  of  Thomas  Wilson.  He  died  in  Edinburgh  in  18451  si^d  was 
buried  iiuogDUo:  The  Times,  2nd  Januaryg  1844. 

380 


Appendix  F. 


A tragic  sidelight  on  this  case  was  reflected  a tew  weeks  later, 
when  the  Foreign  Minister  and  Leader  of  the  House  of  Commons’ 
the  Marquess  of  Londonderry  (better  known  by  his  courtesy  tide 
of  Viscount  Castlereagh),  had  a dramatic  interview  with  King 
George  IV  at  Carlton  House,  in  which  he  made  it  clear  that  he 
was  under  a delusion  that  he  was  about  to  be  prosecuted  for  this 
type  of  offence.  - “I  am  a fugitive  from  justice,”  the  Minister  told 
the  King.  “I  am  accused  of  the  same  crime  as  the  Bishop  of 
Clogher.”  There  is  no  evidence  to  show  that  Castlereagh  had  any 
homosexual  inclinations,  although  he  has  been  credited  with  them. 
It  is  possible,  however,  that  he  was  being  blackmailed  by  a gang 
of  ruffians  who  threatened  to  denounce  him  as  a pederast,  and  that 
his  mind  gave  way  under  the  strain.  He  committed  suicide  three 
days  later.® 

Although  not  so  numerous  perhaps  as  in  the  preceding  century, 
there  were  plenty  enough  cases  of  this  description  in  the  later 
Georgian  and  Victorian  period.  Richard  Heber,  the  famous  book 
collector  and  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Athenaum  Club,  who 
represented  Oxford  University  in  the  House  of  Commons,  was 
obliged  to  resign  his  seat  in  1826  as  the  result  of  a libel  action 
brought  by  a Mr.  Hartshorn  against  the  editor  of  a newspaper, 
in  which  pointed  allusions  were  made  to  a supposed  intimacy 
between  Heber  and  Hartshorn’s  son.  As  a result,  Heber  was 
obliged  altogether  to  withdraw  from  society,  and  was  still 
ostracized  at  the  time  of  his  death,  a few  years  later. 

In  1833  another  M.P.  was  similarly  involved,  William  John 
Bankes,  who  sat  for  the  County  of  Dorset  and  was  well  known  to 
the  literary  world  for  his  travds  in  the  East.  He  was  accused  of 
having  committed  an  act  of  indecency  with  a soldier  in  a public 
lavatory  oubidc  Westminster  Abbey.  At  his  trial,  many  wdl- 
known  persons,  including  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  Samud  Rogers, 
and  Dr.  Butler,  the  Master  of  Harrow,  testified  as  to  his  good 
character,  with  the  result  that  he  was  acquitted.  Some  years  later, 
however,  in  1841,  he  was  brought  before  a magistrate  for  indecently 
exposing  himself  in  Green  Park,  and  was  set  at  liberty  on  bail. 
This  time  he  forfeited  his  recognizance  and  withdrew  to  the  Con- 
tinent, where  he  died  in  Venice  in  1855. 

Similar  cases  occurred  later  in  die  century,  and  during  thfl 
earlier  part  of  Wilde’s  Hfe,  before  his  own  prosecution,  there  were 
a number  of  cases  involving  more  or  less  socially  prominent  indivi- 
duals of  which  he  must  have  had  some  knowledge. 

a See  J.  Richardson,  SemUccliaiu  of  tht  Last  Half  Centuty,  vol.  I (1855),  at 
p.  183,  a seq  , and  Pnwe  Letters  of  Priucess  Uemn  to  Pritiee  Meltensiek  (1939), 
at  p. 

381 


Oscar  Wilde. 


In  i88i  two  ollicials  in  Dublin  Castle,  named  Cornwall  and 
I'rcncli,  were  publicly  involml  in  an  extensive  homosexual  circle. 
The  latter  included  a Conservative  M.l'.  named  De  Cobain.  In 
1889  details  ol  a male  brothel  patronixed  by  members  o£  society, 
including  the  peerage,  came  to  light  in  the  so-called  Cleveland 
Street  scandal.  This  was  largely  the  result  of  an  editorial  article 
in  a journal  called  The  North  Loudon  Press,  dated  i6th  November, 
1889,  in  which  it  was  alleged  that  the  house  at  19  Cleveland  Street, 
oti  Tottenham  Court  Road  in  London,  was  frequented  by  certain 
aristocrats  for  homosexual  purposes.  Names  were  given,  but 
unfortunately  for  the  editor,  he  failed  to  justify  the  circumstances 
in  regard  to  one  of  them,  die  Earl  of  Euston,  son  of  the  Duke  of 
Grafton,  As  a result,  although  the  article  was  in  part  justified, 
the  editor  was  sentenced  to  twelve  months'  imprisonment  by 
Hawkins,  J.,  at  the  Old  Bailey  for  criminal  libel.*  It  may  be 
added  that  another  mcmlicr  of  die  nobility  who.se  name  had  been 
mentioned  in  these  proceedings,  and  who  was  an  ofliccr  in  the 
Prince  of  Wales's  household,  Dirtl  Arthur  Somor.set,  was  allowed 
to  leave  the  cotuiiry. 

Lord  Qucensben'y'.s  action  ami  die  rcsulumt  trials  involving 
Osciir  Wilde  served  in  a measure  to  focus  pnhlie  attention  on  the 
subject,  but  it  w.a8  still  regarded  with  feelings  akin  to  horror,  and 
no  one  except  the  reporters  in  the  baser  journals  were  expected  to 
write  about  it,  When  it  was  necessary  for  historians  to  refer  to  it 
in  the  course  of  their  work,  amilar  feelings  were  expected  to 
prevail. 

In  1866,  W.  E.  H,  Lecky,  writing  in  his  History  of  European 
Morals,  described  what  he  called  “the  lowest  abyss  of  unnatural 
love”  as  the  "deepest  and  strongest  taint  of  Greek  civilization," 
adding  that  “my  task  in  desaibing  this  aspect  of  Greek  life  has 
been  an  eminendy  unpleasant  one.”  John  Addington  Symonds, 
who  was  a contemporary  of  Lecky,  wrote  two  scientific  monographs 
on  the  subject,  A Problem  in  Greel(  Ethics  {1873)  and  A Problem 
in  Modem  Ethics  (1891),  but,  fcaring  prosecution,  he  limited  the 
editions  to  a few  privately  printed  copies.  Symonds  pressed  Oscar 
Browning  to  devote  some  research  to  the  subject,  but  Browning 
deemed  it  prudent  to  decline  the  invitation,*  On  the  other  hand, 
Havelock  Ellis,  with  whom  Symonds  had  collaborated  in  the 
original  first  volume  of  the  celebrated  Studies  in  the  Psychology  of 
Sex,  which  dealt  with  inversion,  published  a sufficient  number  of 

’ See,  V.  ?ar\e,  reported  in  7he  limes,  iSth-nth  J»nu«ry,  iBgo.  See  alw 
Frank  Harris's  comments  on  thU  curious  case  in  nil  autobio^phy  (ed.  Grant 
Richards),  at  pp. 

*H.  E.  Wortham,  0/w  a6i. 

382 


Appendix  F. 


copies  of  this  volume  for  the  printer  to  be  prosecuted.  This  was  in 
1898.  In  the  result  Havelock  Ellis  was  obliged  to  bring  out  the 
remaining  volumes  of  his  great  work  in  the  United  States,  and  it  is 
only  in  recent  years  that  they  have  been  reprinted  in  this  country. 

Besides  W.  T.  Stead’s  remarks  in  the  Review  of  Reviews* 
one  of  the  few  frank  expressions  of  opinion  on  the  subject  of  sexual 
inversion  in  England,  published  by  the  press  at  the  time  of  Wilde’s 
conviction,  was  contained  in  a letter  to  Reynold's  Newspaper  o\tt 
the  initials  "C.  S.  M.“  These  initials  concealed  the  identity  of 
Christopher  Sclater  Millard,  who  was  later  to  compile  several 
bibliographies  of  Wilde’s  writings  under  the  pseudonym  “Stuart 
Mason.’’®  Unfortunately  for  him,  this  writer  was  also  to  be  con- 
victed of  offences  under  the  Criminal  Law  Amendment  Act  as 
Wilde  had  been. 

'■Sir, 

Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  has  been  sentenced  to  two  years’ 
imprisonment  with  hard  labour.  What  for?  For  bang 
immoral?  No.  A man  may  commit  adultery  with  another 
man’s  wife  or  fornication  with  a painted  harlot  who  plys  her 
filthy  trade  in  the  public  streets  unmolested  with  impunity. 
It  is  because  this  man  has  dared  to  choose  another  form  of 
satisfying  his  natural  passions  the  law  steps  in.  Yet  he  has 
not  injured  the  State  or  anybody  else  against  their  will. 

Why  docs  not  the  Crown  prosecute  every  boy  at  a public 
or  private  school  or  half  the  men  in  the  Univasities? 

In  the  latter  places  “jxjedcrism”  is  as  common  as  fornica- 
tion, and  everybody  knows  it. 

May  I say  a word  about  the  conduct  of  the  press  in  this 
case?  The  Daily  Chronicle  and  yourselves  are  the  only  papers 
which  have  ever  given  the  poor  wretch  in  prison  a fair  hearing. 
Other  papers,  which  a few  weeks  ago  devoted  columns  to 
reviews  of  his  splendid  plays  or  books,  now  scorn  him  as 
poison.  Because  a fellow-creature  has  fallen,  why  should  they 
cast  stones  at  him?  Are  the  writers  of  such  articles  themselves 
immaculate  in  their  passions? 


« Sec  above,  p.  358, 

fl  His  Bibltography  of  Ostar  Wilde  {1914)  contains  much  interesting  mfonnation. 
For  further  details  of  C.  S.  Millard  (i8^-i9a7),  sec  A.  J,  A.  Symons,  The  Quest 
for  CorvQ  (1934),  pp.  1-3,  and  Osbert  Burdett,  Umory  find  Imagination  (1935), 
pp.  X04-108. 

383 


Oscar  Wilde. 


Prosecuting  a man  on  such  a charge  as  this  does  not  tend 
to  diminish  tliis  form  of  immorality;  it  rather  increases  it 
tenfold. 

Yours,  !tc., 

C.  S.  M. 

29th  May,  1895,” 

Considerable  research  has  now  been  carried  out  on  the  subject 
by  psychologists  and  psychopathobgists  of  such  eminent  inter- 
national reputation  as  KraSt-Ebmg  and  Bloch.  According  to  thdr 
findings,  the  tendency  of  modern  penologists  is  to  treat  the  offender 
in  the  light  of  psychology  and  psychiatry,  Homosexual  offences  are 
no  longer  regarded  with  the  same  degree  of  horror  as  they  were 
’in  Wilde's  time,  and  one  satisfactory  feature  of  this  development  is 
that  opportunities  of  blackmail  in  connexion  with  this  offence  have 
proportionately  decreased.  If  it  is  no  longer  customary  to  describe 
homosexuality  as  "vice,"  homosexual  conduct,  at  least  when 
punished  by  the  law,  still  carries  a certain  social  stigma  with  it. 
But  public  opinion  continues  to  moderate  as  mure  scientific  know- 
ledge is  brought  to  hear  on  the  subject  and  popular  education  is 
extended. 

‘‘We  now  look  upon  homosexuality  as  a pathological  condi- 
tion,” said  Lord  Dawson  of  Penn,  in  a debate  in  the  House  of 
Ixirds  (7th  July,  1937).  “I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  in  the  future  it 
may  not  be  regarded  as  an  insufficiency  disease,  and  although  it  is 
true  that  the  law  must  take  cognizance  of  it  and  punish  it  in  order 
to  act  as  a preventive  to  potential  offenders,  the  more  reasonable 
view  is  gradually  being  adopted  that  it  at  any  rate  has  one  foot  in 
the  realm  of  disease  and  it  not  wholly  "in  the  realm  of  crime.” 
However,  there  are  sdll  many  who  will  agree  with  the  words  of  the 
late  Lord  Atkin,  who  referred  to  his  judicial  experiences  in  the 
same  debate : "It  is  not  correct  to  say  that  these  cases  ...  are  the 
result  of  something  in  the  nature  of  disease  . . . they  are  the  result 
of  wicked  impulses  which,  like  other  wicked  impulses,  are  capabk 
of  bring  controlled  . . . they  can  be  checked  by  advice  and  by 
resolution.” 


.384